


this sweet craving

by pieandsouffles



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Build, Slurs, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-07-21 23:15:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7409017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pieandsouffles/pseuds/pieandsouffles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes owns a successful bakery in Brooklyn. When he hears that Capitol Cakes, a new bakery, is opening up down the block, he gets a little defensive of his territory. Steve Rogers, co-owner of Capitol Cakes, has something to say about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a 'market niche' invasion

**Author's Note:**

> i should probably say that the title came from "Cake by the Ocean" because i am absolute TRASH and i suck at making titles ok yeah ill go away now

“Happy anniversary!”

Bucky looked up from the mixer, peering warily at Natasha, who had just crashed through his kitchen doors carrying a newspaper and a bottle of champagne.

“Thanks,” he said, turning his attention back to the batter that he was almost definitely over-stirring.Shit, he hoped he wouldn’t have to make a whole new batch.Leave it to Natasha to spoil the proper rising of vanilla cupcakes.

“C’mon, nothing?” she pressed.“Not even a smile?”

Bucky forced a grin, which was difficult since he was only on his second cup of coffee and it was still stupid early - 4:30 AM, to be exact.He kept thinking that after three years of owning his own bakery he would get used to a semi-nocturnal sleeping schedule.It still hadn’t happened.

“Jesus, Barnes, have some more coffee,” she said sympathetically, topping off the precariously perched mug on the counter.“Peter got the website updated, I checked it this morning before I left the apartment.”

“Peter should be getting more sleep,” Bucky said as he began to spoon batter into waiting cupcake tins.“How does it look?”

“Perfect, of course,” Nat said, shrugging.“He always does a good job.We’ll have to recommend him to Clint, since he can’t design or update a website to save his life.I keep telling him that if he even got a _Facebook_ for that place, his business would triple.”

Bucky paused to put the tins into the oven, then wiped his hands on a dish rag before turning to examine the newspaper Natasha had set down on the counter.“What’s up with this?Worried I’m not caught up enough on the election?‘Cause Nat, let me tell you-”

“No,” she interjected.“Just… there’s something you’re going to want to see in the food section.”

“Did they write a puff piece on us again?” Bucky asked, ruffling through the paper to try and find the right section.

Natasha paused, looking uncomfortable.“Well… not exactly.”

#

It begins like this:

James Buchanan Barnes, golden boy of Brooklyn and heir to the considerable Barnes estate, goes to MIT after graduating Valedictorian from high school.He does well, is poised to graduate with honors, is in the top five percent of his class.

James Buchanan Barnes, 21, goes home for Christmas his senior year, much as he has done since beginning at MIT.On Christmas Eve, the roads are coated in ice, but his family still goes out to make their dinner reservation in Manhattan.“It’s tradition,” his mother says. 

He remembers the way the SUV’s tires skidded as the driver slammed on the brakes, tried to stop.He remembers impact, the crushing weight on his left side, a flash of light.

When he wakes up, his parents and sister are gone.He has no arm.

James Buchanan Barnes inherits his family’s house, their wealth, but he doesn’t want any of it.Tony Stark, the richest man in New York and an old friend from MIT, makes him a new arm that can do anything, but he doesn’t really want that, either.He takes it because he thinks his sister would’ve wanted him to be happy, would’ve wanted him to do something with the tragedy.

His therapist tells him to find something that makes him happy.

He joins the military, finds he has a talent for sharpshooting.He’s valuable to them.They give him a code name: _Winter Soldier_ , and tell him some bullshit about Thomas Paine - the “summer soldier” and the “sunshine patriot” and Bucky stops listening because he feels like he has spent his whole lifetime since the crash entombed in ice. 

He loses track of how many people he kills with Special Ops.When a building falls on one of his teammates and the explosion deafens another, they decide it might finally be time to leave.

His therapist tells him to find something that makes him happy.The only thing that’s made him happy in years is a hot gun under his hand, the rush of a mission, of a kill.

Six months later, he buys a space and opens up a bakery with some of the money left to him in his parents’ estate.

He still wakes up at night, phantom limb on fire. 

His therapist tells him to find something that makes him happy.He wants to tell her, _I’m doing the best I can._

He still wakes up screaming. 

#

At 6:00, Teddy came in to help open the store and Bucky could finally leave to go buy real coffee.Paper clutched in his prosthetic hand, he barged into Clint’s place to find Kate at the counter, shouting back to the storeroom.

“Bring out some more of that Guatemalan, Clint, we’re getting low!”

“Which one?” Clint asked.A loud thud followed, closely trailed by a stream of swear words in at least three different languages. “Marzipan and cherry or citrus and mint?”

Kate examined the tasting notes on one of the bags.“Marzipan!”

Grumbling, Clint stumbled out of the storeroom with his hair ruffled, looking a bit worse for wear. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Kate said, finally addressing Bucky.

Clint nodded in his direction, busy restocking one of the displays with the aforementioned Guatemalan.“Hey Buck, what’s up?Usual?”

Kate didn’t wait for him to answer before she started pulling shots; Bucky was instantly grateful for how well they knew him.“Did you see this, Clint?” Bucky asked, holding out the paper.

“Hm?” Clint hummed.“If it’s about the election, I swear to god Bucky, it can wait until-”

“It’s not.” Bucky interjected.

“Oh,” Clint said, straightening and taking the paper.He looked down at the headline once, then looked at Bucky, and finally back down to the headline.“This is for real?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “No, Clint, it’s just in _The_ _New York Times_ as a joke.”

Kate looked up from where she was foaming milk.“What’s it say?”

“‘New Brooklyn Bakery to Open on the 22nd,’” Clint read.

“Keep going,” Bucky encouraged sourly.

Clint looked like he wanted to do anything but.“‘If you live in Brooklyn, be on the lookout for Capitol Cakes, the city’s newest Cupcakery, opening in Park Slope on June 22nd.Founded in Washington DC by friends Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson, Capitol Cakes sells award-winning cakes, cupcakes, and pastries.Capitol Cakes will begin accepting special orders next month. ‘We’re very excited to be relocating to Park Slope,’ said co-owner Steve Rogers.‘It’s a new chapter for us, and we can’t wait to serve the people of New York.’The shop will be opening up just two blocks south from Barnes’ Bakery, which celebrates its three-year anniversary this week.”

Kate whistled long and loud as she handed Bucky his to-go cup. 

“They’re invading our market niche!” Bucky exclaimed after a few more moments of silence.“It’s unbelievable!Another fucking bakery just two blocks away?!Like we aren’t going to lose customers?”

Clint, who was still reading, shrugged.“A bakery isn’t exactly a ‘market niche,’ Barnes.Besides, it says here that Rogers was originally from Brooklyn and wanted to move back.Business is good, right?Just because another shop is moving in doesn’t mean it’s gonna spell death for your place.”

Bucky spluttered.“I know that, I just-”

“You are _such_ a drama queen,” Kate said, rolling her eyes.“Hey, when America comes into work today, can you tell her to text me back?She’s been off the grid for like two days and it has me worried.”

“I think there’s just something wrong with her phone,” Bucky said, finally taking a sip of his coffee.Kate always did make it best - not that he would ever tell Clint that.It would hurt his feelings.“I’ll tell her to come see you.”

“You don’t have to do that!” Kate almost yelled.“It’s okay, I just-”

“Does someone have a crush?” Bucky teased, startled when Kate flushed a deep red.

“Jesus, Katie,” Clint joined in.“Just say something already!”

“Fuck you,” Kate grumbled, then fled into the storeroom. 

Clint laughed and punched Bucky on the arm.“It’s all gonna be fine,” he said.“You’re too pessimistic.”

“And your head is shoved so far up your own ass you can’t see daylight half the time.”

“That’s what coffee is for,” Clint said, grinning as he poured himself what was probably his eighth cup that morning.

“Bye, asshole,” Bucky called over his shoulder as he left the store. 

Clint’s laughter followed him out. 

#

It was six hours before Bucky had another chance to think about Capitol Cakes, due in part to a mix-up at the Co-op that supplied their fresh fruit (Bruce was so apologetic Bucky couldn’t even be mad that he’d brought blueberries instead of strawberries) and also because he had a massive rush order to fill for Tony Stark, Bucky’s annoying landlord and self-proclaimed best friend. Tony had called the night before, requesting four dozen cupcakes in about twelve different flavors, and Bucky (knowing that his rent was certainly discounted in such a nice area of Brooklyn) wasn’t able to say no.

“Did you get the pumpkin ones frosted?” Bucky asked America as he shoveled almond buttercream into a piping bag.

America’s voice drifted over from somewhere by the walk-in freezer.“Yeah, you want them topped with nutmeg or cinnamon?”

“Nutmeg,” Bucky said distractedly, focusing on the motion of his hand as he piped the buttercream in a rose design on top of yet another dozen cupcakes.

“You got the German chocolate-”

“Yep,” Bucky said, putting the final twist on his last cupcake.“Okay, I think that’s it.Did we miss anything?We didn’t, did we?Fucking christ, Tony, what an-”

The kitchen doors swung inwards, and Bucky paused when he heard the telltale sound of Italian leather shoes on the floor.“What was that?” Tony prompted. 

Bucky rolled his eyes as he went to help America pack all the cupcakes into boxes.“Nothing, Tony.You’re just in time.Want something for the road?”

Tony laughed and shook his head.“No way, Barnes! I know you’re just trying to make me fat so that you’ll get all the girls.”

“Right, ‘cause getting girls is such a huge problem for me,” Bucky ribbed.

“Well thanks, but I’ve already had about three cupcakes this morning,” Tony said as Teddy started to load the boxes into Tony’s waiting car.

“You buyin’ your cupcakes from some other poor sap now?” Bucky said absently, examining the crullers that were about to go out on the shelf. 

Tony handed Teddy a crisp twenty as the kid finished loading up the car.“Not buying, just taking shameless advantage of the new tenants down the block.”

Bucky froze. “Don’t you dare tell me-”

“Capitol Cakes - not exactly the greatest name, but the cupcakes themselves? Barnes, these guys are gonna give you a run for your money,” Tony said, sliding his rose sunglasses onto his nose. Bucky wanted to punch them off again.

“You’re leasing to them?” he nearly shouted.

“Couldn’t make things too easy for you, could I?” Tony said, clearly trying at teasing and failing. “C’mon Barnes, a little healthy competition’ll be good for you!”

“You’re dead, Stark,” Bucky growled. “I will take this metal arm you so _kindly_ designed for me and shove it down your throat.”

“Ouch,” Tony said, utterly unconcerned.“Barnes, it’s been a pleasure as always.The money’s already in the deposit envelope.”

America nearly pushed Tony out the back door on his way out.“Is everything okay, Bucky?”

“Mm,” Bucky hummed noncommittally, then remembered, “Kate’s been trying to reach you.Is your phone still broken?”

America’s eyes widened.“Kate?Reach me?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, smirking just a bit.“You should probably get back to her.She seemed like she really wanted to talk to you.” 

“I’ll - I’ll do that,” America said, blushing and then returning to the prep area to finish filling eclairs.

As Bucky worked on making the glaze for the old-fashioned donuts, he couldn’t help but think about the new bakery. _Capitol Cakes_ \- it was a good name, at least.Bucky wondered when he’d meet the owners - if he even _wanted_ to meet them.Maybe at least one of them would be hot, he figured - but, hey, he wouldn’t get his hopes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so I mostly just slapped this chapter up online to see if yall liked the idea? I mean, I'm gonna write it anyways, god knows I like the idea, but if other people were interested there's a chance I might write it faster, etc. I have no real update plan for this shit since it's summer and I've got unlimited free time, so I think I should be able to pull together quick updates, but I don't wanna shove out promises and then have people yell at me because I got too invested marathoning Gilmore Girls to update w/a new chapter. Anyways, I digress. I think I'll go work on chapter two because GOD DAMN IT I CAN'T FIND ANOTHER BAKER!AU WHERE THEY ARE BOTH BAKERS AND THIS IS A TRAGEDY ok by e 
> 
> find me on tumblr: amerrichavez :)


	2. capitol cakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Somehow, between moving away to college and returning eight years later, Steve Rogers had forgotten how gorgeous Brooklyn was at sunrise.

“C’mon Sam, you gotta get up,” Steve cajoled, kicking the side of Sam’s mattress while staring raptly out the window.“Today’s the day we have to sign for the stove, and the painters are finishing up inside and we have to go downtown to get the permits s-”

“Christ, Rogers, I’m up, I’m up!” Sam whined pathetically, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the dawn light streaming in through their single window. “Calm your ass down!”

“I will once you actually get out of bed,” Steve said, quite reasonably, he thought.“Come on, I made coffee and everything.”

Sam raised his arm just a bit so that he could peer blearily at Steve.“I’ll never forgive you for roping me into this bakery business.You know how I feel about waking up before 6 AM.”

Steve scoffed as he crossed the floor of their tiny studio apartment to pour Sam a cup of coffee.He couldn’t wait until they were able to get a bigger place - they were currently living out of a literal shoebox.Both mattresses were on the floor since they hadn’t yet been able to afford bed frames, and their TV (one of the only possessions they had held onto during the move) was resting on an old wooden crate Steve had found in an alleyway a few blocks down.New York was _expensive_ , and they’d poured most of their money into investing in the business.

“Sam, you know it’ll be back to 2:30 wake-ups soon enough.”

“Don’t remind me,” Sam groaned, finally rolling (literally) out of bed so that he could get his coffee from Steve.“I gotta shower, but then I’ll meet you down there.”

“Sounds good,” Steve said.“Don’t take too long! I want to try out a couple new recipes before we open so that we’re ready for the Fourth.”

“Aye, Captain,” Sam said through a yawn, closing the bathroom door behind him.

Steve smiled as he made his way down the stairs to their new bakery space.The owner of the building, Tony Stark (for the life of him, Steve couldn’t understand why a guy who already owned one of the biggest tech corporations in the world needed to own real estate space in Brooklyn), had provided them with what seemed like a very, very low rent for both the bakery and the small flat above the shop.Steve couldn’t complain.The desire to move back to New York had been sudden and strong, and Steve was very thankful his business partner and best friend had been willing to move back with him, relocating their business in the process.Sam was truly a saint for putting up with Steve and his bullshit. 

Leaving the kitchen dark, Steve wandered into their nearly-finished storefront.The east wall was the only thing left to be painted, and Steve smiled at the sight of the “Capitol Cakes” sign that was propped against the north windows.It was the same sign that had hung over their store in Georgetown, and Steve was glad they’d brought it with them.The sign was accompanied by several framed newspapers, also as of yet unmounted, that documented their initial opening and the various awards and accolades Capitol Cakes had won.They’d been named “DC’s Best Bakery” three years in a row, and won “Best Dessert” two out of those three years.A stack of photographs, all depicting catered cakes, rested on one of the small tables, and Steve began to sift through them, sorting them by event and then color scheme.They were redoing their wedding cake binder, refreshing the content for a new audience - a new start.

Sam’s voice sounded behind Steve, making him jump.“Okay, what’s first on today’s plan?”

“I thought we’d stop by the local co-op, figure out a delivery system for supplies?I thought maybe they’d have a recommendation down there for a local roaster, so maybe we could get that out of the way too.Then we get back here by ten to let the painters in and sign for the stove-”

Sam waved his hand to cut Steve off.“Okay, enough info for two cups of coffee.Let’s go.”

#

It begins like this:

Steve Rogers grows up in Brooklyn, small and skinny and sick and unpopular.His mother, Sarah Rogers, works at the local hospital in the infectious disease ward.His father dies in the Gulf War. 

Steve Rogers grows up poor in Brooklyn with health problems and a dream of becoming an artist.His mother tells him he can do anything, be anyone, even if he’s colorblind and sick all the time and prone to sudden asthma attacks.Steve believes her.

Sarah Rogers is diagnosed with lung cancer when Steve is 16 years old.She dies two weeks before Steve’s high school graduation.

Steve leaves Brooklyn behind, abandoning his scholarship at NYU for one at Georgetown because he can’t stand to stay in New York any longer.He meets Sam Wilson and declares a major in art history, but can’t shake the depression, the suicidal thoughts that infect his mind - _if you’d been stronger, you could’ve saved her.You should’ve found a way_.

Sam tells him to find something that makes him happy.He thinks of Sarah’s face, of the apple pie she’d make in September.

He starts to bake on weekends to feel close to her again, and finds he enjoys it.He gets Sam to help him open a bakery.

Sam tells him to find something that makes him happy.He wants to tell him, _I’m doing the best I can._

One day, three years later, he tells Sam he wants to move to New York. 

Sam looks at him, smiles, and says, “When do we leave?”

#

The co-op was managed by a guy named Bruce Banner, who had kind eyes and a soft smile and a temper that could cause heart attacks. 

“No, I am _not_ going to accept blueberries from South America, we’re a _fucking co-op_ , damn it!” he was shouting into his phone when Steve and Sam were waved into his office.“Do you mean to tell me that there’s _no farm_ in the greater tri-state area that sells blueberries in _June_?”

Sam glanced warily at Steve, who shrugged. 

“That’s what I thought,” Bruce said after a brief pause, visibly deflating.“So _get_ them for me.Yeah.That’s fine.Thanks.”He hung up the phone and turned to Steve and Sam.“Sorry about that, I hate it when they try to sell me foreign berries during the summer season.In December?Sure!But anyways, what can I do for you gentlemen?”

Steve smiled and extended his hand.“I’m Steve, this is Sam,” he said as they shook, “and we’re opening a new bakery pretty close to here.I think there was a mention of it in the paper?”

“Oh, right!Capitol Cakes,” Bruce said, nodding in understanding.“Need a supplier?”

“Yes, sir,” Sam said, speaking up.“We were hoping to set something up today since our grand opening is next week.I’ve got all our budget numbers and basic supply needs here,” Sam said, sliding an envelope across the table.“Also, if you had any recommendations for a local coffee roastery, it would be welcome.”

Bruce grinned.“Oh, I’ve got one, all right.But before we start, I should let you know that I also supply for Barnes’ Bakery - I think it’s just a couple blocks away from your location.I don’t anticipate having any problems getting fresh wares to both of you, but if there’s any shortage, just know that I can’t play favorites, all right?I’d have to split the goods between your two shops.”

“We understand,” Steve said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.He’d actually forgotten about Barnes’ Bakery, even though the article had mentioned it briefly.Opening a bakery was no small task, and everything had been a little overwhelming.“I was actually thinking of heading over to talk to Barnes sometime in the next week.”

Bruce’s smile stretched impossibly wider.“I’m sure he’d enjoy that.Anyways, I can get a contract written up and dropped off to the two of you later today.As for a roaster, if you want to stay local, I’d say there’s no place better than Clint Barton’s.He runs Hawkeye’s Coffee Bar, imports beans direct from small farms in Colombia and roasts them in-store.He’s also got trade systems with other small roasters across the country, so he gets beans sourced from Africa, Asia, you name it.Great little place, probably three blocks east from your shop.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, making a note on his phone.“We’ll stop by there.We appreciate you meeting with us on such short notice, and we’ll get that contract back to you no later than tomorrow.”

“Sounds good!” Bruce said, shaking their hands again.“Thanks for coming in, guys.Don’t be strangers!”

“He was nice,” Steve said as they left the co-op and started to make their way in the general direction of Hawkeye’s.“Do you think we should talk to Barnes?”

“It’d probably be impolite _not_ to,” Sam said reasonably.“Should we turn down here or go one more block?”

“I think we need to go one more block,” Steve said, pushing his glasses back up on his nose as he glanced down the cross street.“I hope he’s not upset we’ve moved in.”

Sam snorted.“Keep dreaming, Steve, I don’t think he’s gonna be too happy.”

“But what else could we have done?” Steve cried.“We got a good deal on rent, this is a great neighborhood to live in, and I’m sure there’s plenty of business to go around!”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Sam said, obviously trying to calm Steve down.“But I do think it’s a little unrealistic to hope for the best in this case.”

“I guess so,” Steve sighed.“Hey, we’re here.”

Hawkeye’s was a surprise - the storefront was an interesting mix of black with purple accents, and there were a few purple tables outside that were currently unoccupied due to the early hour. 

The inside was decorated in much the same way, with a couple very nice bows mounted on the walls, and Steve started to wonder if the guy who owned it had been an archer at some point in his life.It seemed likely. 

The girl behind the counter looked up and smiled as they entered.She was young and pretty, with long black hair that flowed down past her shoulders and bright eyes.“Good morning!” she said, straightening up from where she’d been working on what looked like math homework.“What can I get you?”

“Two drip coffees and a chat with the owner?” Sam said, stepping forward.

“Oh, sure,” the girl said, slightly taken aback.“Colombia or Ethiopia?”

“Columbia?” Sam said, setting a ten down on the counter.“Keep the change.”

“Thanks,” the girl said, smiling. “Clint, people out here to talk to you!”

“Be right there!” Clint called back. 

The girl set their coffee down on the bar.“Here you go.This is our Colombia Leanor Rodriguez - you’ll notice the floral aroma?This one has notes of blood orange, burnt sugar, with a little bit of honeyed plum on the finish.”

Bemused, Steve picked up his cup.Floral with notes of blood orange?Maybe they should’ve just gone with Starbucks. He watched as Sam sipped delicately.

“Holy shit,” Sam said.“ _Holy shit_.This is the best coffee I’ve ever had.”

The girl smiled, delighted.“Awesome!I’m Kate, by the way.”

A sandy-haired man finally emerged from the back room, a bandage on the bridge of his nose and another on his right temple.“And I’m Clint,” he said, grinning.“Glad you liked my coffee.”

Steve tentatively tried it.Sam was right - Steve hadn’t known coffee could have so many flavors. 

“Now, what can I do for you guys today?” Clint asked, leaning on the counter.

Sam looked at Steve expectantly.“Well, I’m Steve, and this is Sam,” he started, almost stopping when he saw Clint’s eyebrows begin to pull together.“We’re opening a bakery down the street and are looking for a coffee supplier.”

Kate burst out laughing as Clint continued to frown at them.“Oh my god,” she choked, “he’s gonna kill us.” 

Clint shrugged.“True, but it’s money,” he said.“I say we just don’t tell him.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, feeling like he’d missed something.“We were recommended to you by Bruce Banner down at the co-op.If there’s something wrong, we can go-” 

Clint waved his hand.“Don’t worry about it.Of course we’d be happy to supply you guys coffee.”

“We’ll just be killed in the process,” Kate sighed, but she was still smiling.“It’s okay, though, we like to live on the edge.”

“All right then,” Steve said slowly, glancing over at Sam, who raised his eyebrows in a way that non-verbally conveyed _let’s just go with it_.“If you want to draw up some sort of an agreement or ordering sheets-”

“Nah,” Clint cut in.“Too formal.You just text me when you need coffee, I’ll bring you the best we got in stock.We settle up bi-weekly.Sound good?”

“Sure,” Steve said, now quite confused but willing to go along because that coffee was seriously amazing.

“Here’s my card,” Clint said, handing Steve a white business card with a small purple target on it.“Text anytime, okay?And enjoy the coffee. I look forward to hearing from you guys.”

Sam turned to Steve once they were back out on the street.“Well, that was fucking weird.” 

“Agreed,” Steve groaned.“I can’t deal with any other bullshit today, Sam, I swear to God.” 

“Let’s go let the painters in,” Sam said, slinging an arm around Steve’s shoulders.“We’ve done enough business for today.”

When they got back to the bakery, there was a boy sitting on the front stoop.Well, boy was maybe too harsh - he looked like he was probably college-aged, a fact that was confirmed by the intricate tattoos Steve noticed on his arms.

“Are you Mr. Rogers and Mr. Wilson?” the kid asked, gripping a couple pieces of paper in front of him like a shield. 

“Yeah,” Steve said slowly.“How can we help you?”

“I was wondering if you guys were hiring,” he said, extending a hand.“I’m Billy Kaplan.”

“Nice to meet you, Billy,” Sam said, shaking his hand.

“This is my resume and cover letter, I thought I’d drop them off, just in case,” Billy said, handing the papers to Steve.He glanced over them - the kid went to Brooklyn College and was majoring in anthropology, had good grades, and few enough extracurriculars that Steve guessed he could also work during the school year.A current food handler’s permit was attached to his cover letter.Steve was impressed.

“Availability?” Steve asked, passing the papers to Sam. 

“Anytime during the summer, and most mornings during the school year.I have late classes.” 

Steve glanced at Sam, who nodded slightly.Steve smiled at Billy, and asked, “When can you start?”

#

Steve buried his head in his hands.“So do you think we should cut the lemon from the opening rotation, or the peanut butter?”

Sam opened another two beers and shoved the one with a lower ABV into Steve’s hands.“Well, the peanut butter is classic.Everyone likes it.But the lemon curd sets your lemon cupcakes apart from ones you’d find at other bakeries. So - classic or innovative?”

“Innovative,” Steve decided, crossing out “peanut butter” on the list in front of him.“It’s not hard to make a good peanut butter cupcake.”

“There you go, then,” Sam said, collapsing onto their new couch. Craigslist was a beautiful thing. “Stop stressing about this, Steve.Billy’s working out great, we’ve got two more days to finalize things before the store opens, and we don’t even have to start worrying about custom cakes until next month.Our landlord loves us, thanks to those cupcakes you made him when he last stopped by.What’s got you so worked up?You been taking your anxiety meds?”

Steve started nervously.He’d forgotten to take them for the past three days, but that wasn’t the point. “I think maybe I’ll feel better once I’ve talked to Barnes,” he said, worrying at the bottle label with a fingernail.

“Why don’t you stop by there tomorrow?” Sam said as he started to flip through Netflix. “I’ll meet with Parker to go over the few changes we wanted for the website, and you can go hammer things out with our new neighbor.”

Steve bit his lip.“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.Don’t work yourself to death, Steve.If I have to cart you off to the hospital because you went overboard during opening weekend, I’ll kill you myself.”

Steve didn’t say anything, because he knew Sam was right.When they’d first opened Capitol Cakes in DC, Steve really _had_ been hospitalized after opening weekend.Apparently, working twenty hour days while still getting over a sinus infection was a poor health decision.He’d collapsed on the fourth day after opening, leaving Sam to scramble for help. 

“I’ll be smart, Sam,” Steve said, running a hand through his hair.It was getting too long; he would have to make an appointment for the following Monday, once everything had settled down.

Sam laughed.“Let’s just hope Barnes takes it well.”

Steve joined Sam on the couch and opened the bag of chips that was sitting on their new coffee table.“Yeah.Let’s hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sam wilson is Too Good For This World, Too Pure. also we havent even seen Steve Actual Sassy Piece of Shit Rogers yet so im really looking forward to writing that (idk if you've read any of my other shit, but it generally takes me a good long time to get to any exciting stuff, there's just so much to establish in AUs! so i do apologize for the au world-building but it needed to happen). also writing skinny steve is very exciting for me like im usually such a post-serum steve bitch :D 
> 
> anyways, thanks for all the amazing feedback so far! im a slut for kind comments and kudos, of course, so drop me a line or find me at amerrichavez on tumblr!


	3. that f*cking punk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws confetti* omg look @ me three chapters in two days this is amazing this is incredible this is almost certainly unsustainable but hey i did warn you

Bucky was going to scream.“Look, America, is there any way you could go and… just deal with it?”

America fixed him with a steely gaze and crossed her arms, brushing flour all over her apron in the process.“Barnes, you know I love you and respect you, but even I will not deal with him for you.”

“I’ll give you twenty dollars?” Bucky asked desperately, delicately placing slices of candied lime on top of margarita cupcakes while he spoke. 

America shook her head.“You pay me too much as is, so unfortunately you have no leverage.You go, I’ll finish these up.”

“I hate you,” Bucky said, but handed the bowl of limes to America so he could wash his hands off in the sink.

“No you don’t,” America called after him as he left the kitchen. 

Stephen Strange was waiting for Bucky at a small table near the back of the bakery, wearing some godawful trench coat with a very high collar even though it was blisteringly hot outside.“Barnes,” he said as Bucky approached, extending his hand.

“Stephen,” Bucky said, shaking his hand and trying to scrape up some semblance of a smile.“What can we do for you today?”

“I am hosting an event on Thursday,” Strange began, and Bucky was already straining to remain civil.Strange was a regular customer of theirs and knew _perfectly well_ that there was one week’s advance notice required for custom cakes.He did this often - would come in two or three days before the event and expect Bucky to be able to whip up some three-tiered monstrosity just because they knew each other in college. Bucky wished that he could just say no, but considering the new bakery going in down the block, it was important to keep his old clients happy. 

“I need a cake - two or three tiers, of course - and I would like chocolate and vanilla marble with bavarian cream filling….”

Bucky let Strange’s voice wash over him, compartmentalizing the conversation in the way he used to during his time in the military.He stared passively at the design details Strange had brought in, thinking about Capitol Cakes and whether or not he should go down there to meet the owners.Wasn’t that common courtesy?God forbid, was he expected to welcome them to the neighborhood? 

No, he wouldn’t do that.They were infringing on _his_ space, _his_ clientele, and if they wanted to talk, _they_ could come to _him_.

“…Of course I will pay extra for the rush order, if that is what you are concerned about?”

Bucky’s eyes snapped back up to Strange.“Absolutely, Stephen.We’ll get it done for you.4:00 delivery again?”

“Please,” Strange said, looking satisfied. _Thank god. Get him out before he can order anything else._

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Bucky said, shaking Strange’s hand.“I’ll email you pricing and you can pay upon delivery.”

“Thank you, Barnes.”

Bucky watched him walk out the front door and then collapsed on the table, looking over the photos and design notes again.This was going to be a fucking nightmare.He would have to work overtime to fit it in next to the orders he already had for the Osbornes, the opening of that new legal firm downtown, Pepper’s dinner party….

“You okay, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky looked up to see Teddy standing over him with a cup of coffee offered like some kind of salvation.“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Bucky?Mr. Barnes makes me feel old,” he complained, taking the coffee cup nonetheless.

Teddy shrugged, blushing.If Bucky didn’t know better, he’d think the kid had a bit of a crush on him.“Thanks, Bucky.”

“No, thank _you_ ,” Bucky said, retreating back into the kitchen once more.America was waiting for him, making quick work of the sugar roses that would be decorating Pepper’s cake order. 

“What is it this time?”

“Fucking three tier cake, with about three types of batter and six types of frosting needed,” Bucky complained, passing her the notes he’d taken.She frowned down at them.

“Wow, you think he’d learn to come to us sooner.It’s okay, we can get it done.”

“America, what would I do without you?” Bucky sighed as he started to help her with the roses. 

She smiled.“Crash and burn.”

#

Three hours later, Bucky had just taken a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven when he heard the front door open and close.He checked his watch - 4:45, so close to closing time he could taste it.Sincerely hoping it wasn’t another customer with a rush special order (he thought he might actually have to turn them down if it was), he ventured out into the storefront since Teddy and America had long since left. 

A man was looking at his cupcake displays.He was short and slight, with blond hair that was shaved on the sides and long on top.The man’s hands were shoved inside tight jeans, and Bucky’s gaze trailed up the incredible watercolor tattoos he had splashed across his forearms.He’d seen a lot of tattoos in his days, but these were really _art_ \- that much was very clear.He wondered if they extended all the way up to the guy’s shoulders, but he had his sleeves rolled up halfway, so Bucky couldn’t tell.

“Hi,” he said, but it came out a little too high and much too soft.The guy didn’t look up.“Hey,” he tried again, this time at a normal volume and pitch, and the man’s head snapped up almost guiltily.

 _Oh, shit_ , Bucky thought. _He’s hot_. 

Even partially hidden behind thick black frames, the guy’s eyes were the most incredible shade of blue, and the sunlight streaming in through the front windows hit his hair at the exact right angle to make it look like it was glowing.Bucky suddenly felt very underdressed, in his flannel and ratty old apron, covered in flour and sugar.

“Oh, uh, hi,” the guy said, and his voice was _octaves_ deeper than Bucky had expected it to be - low and a little hoarse, the sound would have been better placed in a 6’2” beefcake. 

“Can I get you something?” Bucky prompted when the guy continued to stand there, just staring at him, without saying another word. 

The guy laughed a little and shook his head.“Uh, not exactly.I just wanted to introduce myself, since I guess we’re neighbors now.”

Bucky frantically tried to place this guy - who did he know that had moved into Park Slope recently?Was he someone famous? 

“Well, I’m James,” he said anyways, holding out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you…?”

“Oh, uh, I’m Steve,” the guy said.“Steve Rogers.” 

Bucky’s brain completely whited out as he shook Steve’s hand on autopilot.A sort of hollow rage began to build in him, and he stepped away from the handshake quickly.“Steve Rogers.You’re Steve Rogers.”

“Yeah, my buddy Sam and I are opening up a shop right down the street.I just wanted to come in and, um, introduce myself.” 

Bucky was speechless.This fucking _asshole_ had the _nerve_ to walk into _his business_ and just say _hi_? He laughed, but the sound came out very, very wrong, warped and twisted and angry.“Right, so you come into Park Slope, get a space _two blocks away_ from my bakery, and think you can just come in here and smooth things over?Afraid I’d be upset?”He didn’t know why he was reacting this way.This guy was just trying to make a living.But he didn’t have to do it on the same fucking block. 

“Well, I just thought-” Steve began, but Bucky cut across him, seemingly unable to stop himself. 

“You just thought?Clearly, you _didn’t think_!Do you know how long it took me to build this business?To build the clientele base I have?” Bucky watched passively as Steve’s features hardened and he stood up a little straighter, a little more defensively.“And then you just come in here and open up a new place?You’re hurting both of our businesses!What the fuck, Rogers?Where the _fuck_ do you get off?”

“Look, I don’t know what your problem is, Barnes, but you need to calm down!” Steve said, brushing his hair off his forehead so that it was partially combed over.Bucky tried really hard not to think about how good it looked.He was too angry.“There’s plenty of business to go around - this is _New York_ , for fuck’s sake!Don’t try to tell me you’ve been hurting for money or special orders.You’re the only reputable bakery in Brooklyn right now and we both know it!”

“And I plan to keep it that way,” Bucky snarled, unconsciously pounding his metal fist on the counter and accidentally splintering the wood.“I’ve worked too fucking hard to have some little _punk_ come in fresh from DC and fuck this up for me!”

“I don’t get why you have to make it this way,” Steve said, bristling and taking a step closer to Bucky (which, impressive, because Bucky knew how scary he was when he was angry).“Did you ever think that maybe we could collaborate on stuff, send clients to the other’s store if one of us is too busy with orders?There are other options here, Barnes!”

Bucky had not, in fact, thought of that, but who gave a shit now?He wasn’t about to back down.“There are _no_ other options.I don’t know what kind of fucking fantasy you’re livin’ in, pal, but one of us ain’t gonna be open this time next year, and it sure as hell isn’t gonna be me.”

“So that’s how it is?” Steve said, obviously trying to keep his voice calm and failing miserably.Bucky tried very hard not to look at his lips while he was talking - his stupid, full, cupid’s bow lips.He wanted to punch them.“Gonna try to run me out of the city, Barnes?” 

“If I have to, yes,” Bucky said viciously, starting to pull the last couple pastries from the box displays. 

“If you wanna do that, you’re gonna have to bake a better cupcake than those,” Steve snapped, looking disdainfully at the cupcakes in the display case. 

“What the fuck?There’s nothing wrong with my cupcakes!”Bucky said, unwilling to let this guy worm his way under his skin but pretty offended nonetheless. 

“Oh, Barnes, c’mon!Chocolate with strawberry?” Steve said, doing a good play at looking thoroughly unimpressed.“Not exactly the most original flavor combination, don’t you think?”

“People really like those!” Bucky snapped before remembering he didn’t need to fight with this guy over his cupcake choices, because _Bucky_ was the one with the established business, and _Bucky_ would be the one still open at the end of the year.“And I don’t give a shit what you think about my flavor combinations!Go to hell, Rogers.”

“You know, I try to come over here, be polite and all, and this is how I’m treated,” Steve said, laughing in a way that was strangely self-deprecating.“I should’ve fucking known better.You’re a jerk, James Barnes.” 

“Oh, wow, I’m so hurt,” Bucky deadpanned, clutching at his chest. “We’re closing.”

“Fine, I’ll get out,” Steve snarled, turning on his heel.“We open tomorrow, so don’t be surprised when you see a drop in sales.”

“And I have three special orders lined up for this weekend alone, so don’t be surprised when you’re out of business by month four,” Bucky shot back, starting to sort all the receipts in the register.“I’m really looking forward to seeing you off.Maybe I’ll even open up a second baking location in your current site.More room for me.” 

“Fuck you, James,” Steve said, storming towards the door. 

“Oh, now I’m just terrified.Do they even let you drink at pubs yet?” he called after Steve as the man put his hand on the doorknob.It was a low blow and Bucky knew it, but he just couldn’t help himself - he was _so mad_.

“See you around, asshole,” Steve hissed, and he slammed the door behind him so hard a couple of the windows actually rattled.

Still so angry he could barely see straight, Bucky returned to the register to finish closing out the till.Who _did_ that, anyways?Who thought it was a good idea to stop by their business rival’s shop and formally introduce themselves? (Not that Bucky hadn’t been thinking the exact same thing earlier, but he hadn’t _done_ it.) 

Unless Steve had just done it to get under Bucky’s skin.Worm his way in and plant the seed of self-doubt so that Bucky would be so preoccupied with the other business that his standards would fall and his business would fail.There had to be _some_ ulterior motive! 

He breathed in deeply, yearning to punch something with his metal fist.Shoot something.Anything.Just as he was considering the pros and cons of punching a decent hole in the brick wall of the back alley, his phone buzzed. 

**Nat: hey boo, drinks at Wolverine?**

Bucky smiled and felt the anger subside. 

**Bucky: sure, meet me there in 20?**

**Nat: yay :) see you soon!**

He packed up the rest of the uneaten pastries to be sold at a discount the next day, but set aside a few sugar cookies for Nat.After closing up the register, he made his way down to Wolverine Brewing, the best microbrewery in a fifteen-block radius.It looked like a total dive bar from the outside, but the owner, Logan, was very passionate about both his beer and his brewhouse, so the inside was considerably nicer.

Bucky found Nat at a booth with Clint, and set the cookies down on the table as he slid in beside her. 

“You look terrible,” she said, shoving a Lumberjack Amber at him.Bucky took it gratefully and downed a quarter of it in one pull. 

“Thanks, Nat.The owner of the new bakery came into the store today.”

Nat and Clint immediately perked up.Clint in particular looked wary, and asked, “So… how did that go?”

Bucky shrugged.“About as well as could be expected.There was a lot of yelling, a little bit of name-calling, and some low-level threats.I don’t think I succeeded in scaring him off at all.”

Clint relaxed a bit, and Bucky filed that away for a later date - Clint had been a good liar when they were in Special Ops together, but his body language tended to give him away.“Well, you can’t have everything.I’m sure it’ll all work out, Buck.”

Natasha hummed in sympathy as she finished off her drink.“Do you have to open the store tomorrow morning?” she asked.

“Technically I have to open every morning, but I could call in Pietro, see if he wants some extra hours.Why?”

Natasha grinned, the expression feral and a little bit frightening.“Let’s get drunk!”

Bucky knew it was a bad idea.One glance at Clint confirmed that he was thinking the same thing - _hey, bad plan, you know what happens when you drink with Natalia because you try to match her shot for shot and she_ always _drinks you under the table._

“Clint?” Bucky prompted, willing to go along with whatever he decided. 

Clint shrugged.“Why not?”

(Which is how, five hours later, Bucky and Clint ended up throwing up behind the Milano, too drunk to keep dancing.Natasha called them all an Uber and laughed, seemingly still sober, as they tried very hard not to be sick in a stranger’s car.And when Bucky finally tumbled back into his apartment at the early hour of 11:30 PM, he collapsed into bed without drinking any water at all, aware that it was going to be a _very_ unpleasant morning indeed.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow ive never written anything where they hated each other before? i LOVE IT omg ok anyways positive comments make me soooo happy i have no words and i also really appreciate kudos (ofc) and i'll have the next chapter up as soon as humanly possible :) <333


	4. how to become a legitimate local business in one easy step!

By the time he reached his and Sam’s apartment, Steve was on the verge of an asthma attack. 

He shouldn’t have let himself get so upset.It was stupid - the whole argument was stupid, the way James’ hair seemed intent on escaping its bun to fall in loose tendrils by the side of his face was _stupid_ -

Steve tumbled in through their door, chest clenching uncomfortably, and dimly registered Sam’s voice in the background before he collapsed onto their couch, struggling to moderate his breathing.

“Yo, Steve, is everything okay?” Sam asked from the kitchen.(It wasn’t even a proper kitchen, more of a small cluster of appliances that could possibly pass as a kitchen if one considered the overall square footage of the apartment.)It smelled like Sam was making dinner, and Steve concentrated on the scent, trying to place it.Sautéed onions and garlic, probably. 

He groaned.“Sure, if you count the fact that our new neighbor and business rival absolutely _hates_ us and is intent on driving us out of business.So I mean, yeah, sure, everything’s _fine_.”

Sam appeared in his line of vision, holding a spatula and looking surprised.“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, Steve.So, I mean, it’s a little unfortunate, but there’s no reason at all for him to _hate_ us.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Sam,” Steve sighed.“He explicitly told me he’d try to run us out of the city.”

Sam frowned, reassessing.“Okay, never mind.Dude’s an asshole.”

“Seconded,” Steve said, and turned on Netflix as Sam vanished back into the kitchen. 

James had been pretty scary, too, in his own right.That metal arm!Steve really needed to stop thinking about how the plates would feel under his fingers, and concentrate more on the way James had almost demolished the counter purely on accident.He wondered what the story was behind the arm. Not that he would ever ask.If he did, he suspected he’d probably know how it felt to have his ribcage crushed by it.

“Okay, well, let’s just forget about it,” Sam said, reentering Steve’s line of sight carrying two plates.He’d made chicken cacciatore, and Steve could’ve cried he loved Sam so much, because he knew it was one of Steve’s favorite meals.“We’re opening tomorrow, and everything’s gonna go great.”

Steve nodded weakly, poking at his cacciatore halfheartedly despite how amazing it smelled.His appetite had vanished the second James opened his mouth.Sam noticed.

“Steven Grant Rogers, if you don’t eat all of that amazing dinner I slaved over all day-”

“Jesus, mom, okay!” Steve said, finally laughing and taking a bite.It really was incredible.

#

He needn’t have worried about business.

The line was around the block within twenty minutes of opening, and Steve could barely keep up.Sam and Billy were up at the front of the store, managing the ridiculous amount of customers, and Steve was frosting cupcakes faster than he ever had in his entire life.Somewhat desperately, Steve wished he’d hired another person to help with stuff in the kitchen.He’d have to put an ad out on Craigslist - he knew very well that even though all their days may not be this busy, he would need the extra help when custom orders started coming in. 

Sam poked his head around the kitchen door.“Steve, can we get some more muffins out here?”

“Has it calmed down at all?” Steve asked, popping cooled banana walnut muffins out of their tins. 

Sam shrugged.“Depends on what you mean.I can breathe again, so that’s good.But there are still about fifteen people out there.”

“Fuck,” Steve swore, wiping sweat off his brow.He piled some muffins on a plate and handed it to Sam.“Well, whenever you have a break out there, if one of you could come back and help with the marshmallow that would be great.” 

“You got it, Rogers,” Sam said, and vanished. 

Steve leaned up against the counter, trying to mentally prioritize everything that had to get done.First, finish up topping the lavender lemon cupcakes, then -

The back door (the one _specifically_ designated for deliveries that led to the alleyway behind the building) crashed open, startling Steve so severely he thought his heart might have stopped for a second. “Hey, there’s my favorite tenant!”

Steve groaned under his breath.Of course.At the _worst_ possible time.

“Hey, Tony,” he said, smiling weakly, turning to face their landlord.Tony was dressed impeccably in what looked like an Armani suit, and he was still wearing those stupid fucking sunglasses.Did he ever take them off?

“Looks like the big day is going well,” Tony commented, plucking a vanilla bean cupcake from its holding place on the baker’s rack.Steve almost said something, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. 

“Couldn’t have asked for better,” Steve confirmed, watching, resigned, as Tony removed the baking cup and threw it on the counter.His very pristine, clean counter that he had sanitized just fifteen minutes before. 

Tony bit into the cupcake and let out a moan that wouldn’t have been out of place in a porno.“Man, this is good.This is like, better than sex, Steve-o.Given the choice between sex and this cupcake, I would pick this cupcake.”

Steve forced his fists to unclench.“What can I do for you, Tony?”

Tony shrugged.“Just came by to make sure you knew about Bite of Brooklyn, since your entry application has to be in by the day after tomorrow.” 

“Oh,” Steve said dumbly.He had not expected that.“Bite of Brooklyn?”He wasn’t at all certain he wanted to commit to anything that big yet.They had only just opened, and it would probably be better to wait on that sort of thing, do it when they were more established, had a better reputation in the community….

Tony waved one hand in a dismissive motion.“It’s basically a food competition, with different categories for different types of food.A bunch of local vendors give samples and people vote on which ones they like best.I just wanted to make sure you knew about it, since Barnes has won best dessert three years running now.I’d like to see him lose.”

An unbidden image suddenly sprang to the forefront of Steve’s mind: James, watching as Steve was presented with a certificate that read “Bite of Brooklyn’s Best Dessert,” his manbun askew and face twisted in jealousy and anger because Steve had beat him at his own game. _Out of business in four months, my ass_. 

“Definitely.We’ll definitely do it,” Steve said automatically, nodding as he savored the thought of putting the certificate up on the bakery wall along with the ones he’d brought from DC.If they won, Barnes would _have_ to acknowledge Capitol Cakes as a legitimate business rival that could actually make it in Park Slope. 

Tony grinned.“Knew you had it in you.”He looked back at the baker’s rack.“Could I…?”

 _No, absolutely not, why are you so incredibly annoying, those are my product and you will_ not _take them out of this store free of charge_ -

“Sure,” Steve sighed, motioning towards the stack of cupcake boxes under the counter.“Go ahead.No more than six!”

“No problem,” Tony nearly sang, loading up a box.“See ya Monday, Rogers!”

“What’s Monday?” Steve called after him as Tony slipped through the back door. 

“Bite of Brooklyn!” came the faint response, almost too low for Steve to hear even with his hearing aids in. 

Christ, he only had four days to prepare for the competition in which he would destroy Barnes’ spirit and ego in one fell swoop?No, it was okay.They could handle it.They were the best bakery in DC, and they _would_ be the best bakery in Brooklyn. 

He would make sure of it.

#

“So you’re telling me you entered us in a baking competition just to get back at James Barnes, decorated military veteran and longstanding local figure?” Sam deadpanned over beers at a local brewery.The place was new since the last time Steve had been in Brooklyn, and their IPA was fiercely hopped in what resembled a Northwest style more than anything else.It was already making him tipsy, and he was only a quarter of the way through his second pint.

“This is it, Sam, this is how we get our foot in the door!” Steve enthused, maybe a bit too excitedly.“If we can beat him there, then we establish ourselves as a real competitor!”

Sam stared blankly at him.“Steve, if the business we did today hasn’t already done that, I’ll goddamn quit this bakery bullshit and run for mayor.”

“I’d vote for you,” Steve said, shrugging.“But really, Sam, we have to do this.” 

Sam sighed.“Fine.But can we focus on what the hell we’re gonna do for another staff member?You can’t keep up today’s pace, Steve, it’ll land you in the hospital.”

Steve deflated.“I know.What do you think?I was considering throwing an ad out on Craigslist.”

Sam drained his third beer and frowned.“Don’t we know _anyone_ in New York that has some culinary experience?Or at least a current food handler’s permit?”

“Nope,” Steve said, leaning back in his chair.“Everyone has real jobs now, Sam.”

“Shit.Craigslist it is.”Sam stood.“I’m gonna go get another beer.You want anything?”

“Can you bring back some pretzels?” Steve asked hopefully.“If they’re free, of course.”

Steve watched Sam walk to the bar, where he was almost immediately approached by a short, stunning redhead.Steve smiled.Maybe it was time for him to clear out.Instead of staying at the bar, though, she trailed Sam back to the table. 

“Steve,” Sam began, his eyes screaming something like _warning!_ “This is Natasha.She wanted to talk to us.”

 _Oh my god, who did we fuck with now?_ Steve thought, groaning.They’d only been back in town a couple months!How could they have already run into shit? Unless she was with Barnes?That could explain why she was able to convey so much threat with just her eyes, which were currently narrowed in Steve’s direction.

“Hi, Natasha, I’m Steve,” he said politely and held out his hand.She shook it, and her grip was firm and almost uncomfortably strong.No wonder Sam was so wary. 

“Hi, Steve,” she said, smiling sweetly but in a way that made it look like she was about to eat him.Steve swallowed.“I just wanted to chat with you guys.I visited your bakery today, and I had to say, I was pretty impressed.” 

Steve hadn’t realized how much he’d tensed up, but he was made aware of it as his muscles abruptly relaxed, no longer tensing for a fight. “Thanks, Natasha.We really appreciate it.”

She smiled again, but this time it was marginally warmer.Steve considered that a success.“I’m a food blogger, and I’m going to write an entry on you guys tonight.I just wanted to make sure you’d be at Bite of Brooklyn next week so that I can mention it in my review.I hadn’t seen your business on the list of confirmed vendors.” 

Sam leaned forward and said, “We just found out about it today.We’re gonna be there.Sounds like there’ll be some pretty good competition.” 

Natasha’s mouth curved up at one corner in an unmistakable smirk.“I guess so.Anyways, I have a friend who’s looking to settle down into civilian life, and I was hoping to give you her information.I’d expect business to pick up for you after this weekend.”

“Pick up?” Steve asked weakly. “How many followers do you have on your blog that you could _increase_ our business, after the kind of day we had today?”

Natasha laughed, pulling a card out of her pocket and setting it down on the table.“Not too many.300,000, give or take.”

Steve almost choked. 

“Anyways, thanks for the chat, boys,” she said, giving Sam a sidelong glance as she stood up.“I hope to hear more from you soon.”

Sam grabbed the card eagerly as soon as she was out of sight, and fist-pumped.“She gave me her number.”

“Nice,” Steve said appreciatively, but took the card back so that he could get the number for the woman Natasha had recommended.

“What’re you doing?” Sam asked, still busy programming Natasha into his phone.

Steve shrugged.“You heard her, she’s got an insane number of followers for being a food critic!We were already swamped, and we need more help.Might as well, right?”

“Right,” Sam agreed easily, setting his phone down.“What’s her name?”

Steve dialed the number, checking the card one more time.“Peggy.Peggy Carter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahhahaha im just 
> 
> im having too good a time with this like really i need to chill the fuck down like look @ them jfc 
> 
> if ya like it let me know! if you dont pls dont say anything my self esteem is more fragile than buckys ego lmao


	5. bite me, brooklyn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is late... pokemon go kinda consumed my two days off tbh

It wasn’t always hot, in the desert.

Bucky’s conception of _desert_ , during his senior year of college, consisted of hot sand and hotter sun and unbearable winds that carved mountains from waste.

That was _before_. Bucky knew now that the desert could also be _cold_.

He was perched in a sniper’s nest on a ridge in the Dasht-e Kavir, and his hands were frozen.A Persian ground jay passed by close to his head, but he did not flinch.This mission was important - he had to stop the caravan.Take the shot.

He didn’t know how long he’d been waiting for the caravan - it felt like days, but was likely only hours.He cleaned his gun, reestablished the shot, cleaned his gun, lined up again. 

A noise sounded in the distance - a freight train, he thought.That was the sound he was looking for.The broad salt expanse of the desert stretched out before him, split by a set of train tracks, and he watched as his breath billowed out in front of him. 

One more shot, and then he could go home.His handlers had promised - he could go back to his life, his bakery, his friends -

He looked back down the barrel of the gun, but it was tilted off-target. 

One of his arms was gone. 

His breath quickened, and he looked around again.He wasn’t in the desert - he was in the middle of a crowded street, glass cutting into his cheek, blood flowing from a crushed mass of skin and bone that used to be his shoulder. 

He was back in Budapest, concrete screeching as it disconnected from its foundations, a freight train flying past, a scream from Barton, whose ears were bleeding, the sight of a single arm emerging from a pile of rubble -

He was back in the cave.His handler smashed his face into the table and he felt a shock scream up his metal arm.They placed a wet cloth on his face and watched as he tried to breathe.His handler laughed when the screaming started. 

 _This isn’t real_ , he thought, trying to breathe but spending all his air yelling for mercy. _This isn’t real.You got out, you left, you have a home, a life -_

Bucky jerked awake, eyes flying open to the sight of his alarm clock reading 3:30 AM.He clamped his mouth shut to stop the screaming that was probably disturbing his neighbors, and tumbled out of bed, thrilled to hear his coffee maker beep in the kitchen.Whoever had invented the programmable coffee maker might actually be his personal hero. 

He poured himself a cup and leaned on the counter, putting his head in his hands.Having to wake up before dawn for work was bad enough without having nightmares, too.Yawning, Bucky checked his phone to see if he’d received the details for Bite of Brooklyn yet.There was no email about the upcoming food festival, but there was a notification email from Natasha’s blog.Bucky followed it, since Nat usually had good taste and would recommend fantastic food trucks.He had almost decided to go to lunch at whatever new place she had reviewed when he saw the title.

“Cupcakes have reached their zenith with Capitol Cakes,” Bucky read aloud, the words tasting sour on his tongue. 

Surely this was a joke - Natasha wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t publicly endorse his business rival to her hoards of Twitter followers, would she?

He started reading the article, and had to resist the sudden and almost overwhelming urge to throw his phone against the wall. 

Bucky was going to kill her. 

Breathing deeply and trying to remember the advice his therapist had given him about calming his temper, Bucky took his coffee cup into the bathroom with him as he started the shower.Well, Bucky thought, at least he would have Bite of Brooklyn to take his mind off things.He wished Tony would stop calling it a competition - it wasn’t, really, just a place to get his product out there for potential new customers.He smiled as he thought of the last few years and the certificates that hung on the wall of his shop.At least _Steve_ wouldn’t be there - their business was still too new, and Bucky was sure the entry date had already passed; plus, he hadn’t seen Capitol Cakes listed on the website as one of the vendors (he’d checked three days before). 

Even though their opening day had probably been successful, Bucky was fairly assured that there wouldn’t be a _huge_ drop in his sales. He had good customers, and he didn’t need to worry about some little punk with dumb hipster glasses and nice hair….

Bucky thought back to their interaction the day before as he ran conditioner through his hair.Maybe he’d been too harsh on Steve Rogers.Perhaps the best thing to do would be to go back and apologize, try to strike up some civil conversation with the guy.Camaraderie was out of the question, of course, but….

No.He’d stand his ground, at least until he had another “Best Dessert” title under his belt.Then _maybe_ he could go to Steve, as long as he had the upper hand.

Bucky made his way to the bakery about a half hour later, pausing briefly at the 24-hour Starbucks to grab a caramel macchiato.He loved the stillness of early morning in Brooklyn, the only commotion drunk college students stumbling off the subway at the wrong stop or businessmen catching a cab to get to JFK for an early flight.As he powered up the ovens and grabbed dough out of the freezer, Bucky smiled, remembering once again why he chose to open a bakery in the first place.There was something immensely satisfying about baking - following a recipe, knowing exactly how it would turn out.There was no guesswork in baking. 

Bucky took the cinnamon rolls out of the fridge from where they’d been rising overnight and threw them in the oven before starting in on making the s’mores cupcakes that were always a favorite of kids this time of year.He shot off a text to Natasha, trying to sound intimidating, but figured he probably came off as whiny. 

**Bucky: wanna explain why I woke up to a blog post about the other bakery this morning????!**

He set his phone down, not expecting a text back for another two hours at least.Maybe if she felt bad enough, she’d bring him coffee. 

Bucky opened the store early and started toying with some different flavor combinations to find one that would be good for Bite of Brooklyn.He needed something summery, but still traditional, but still innovative - so, basically, something that didn’t exist.He stared down at the list he’d made, frowning.Maybe America could come up with something.

The door to the bakery opened but Bucky didn’t move - he recognized Natasha’s footsteps.“Morning, James,” Nat greeted him, placing one of Hawkeye’s to-go cups down on the counter.“I got you the Ethiopia.It’s good.” 

Bucky looked up at her, glaring.Her hair was shiny and straight today, and she was wearing skinny jeans and a zip-up hoodie that somehow still made her look like she’d just stepped off a runway.Bucky hated the calm ease with which Natasha handled fashion, and wished he knew how to look less like a college stoner and more like a real adult.“What, no apology?”

Natasha sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes.“I can’t apologize for doing my job, Bucky.”

He took the coffee anyways.“Are his cupcakes as good as mine?”

“I’m not going to answer that,” she responded delicately.“Did you read the whole review?”

“Nope,” Bucky said, turning to remove danishes from the oven.“I read, like, a sentence and stopped.”

She laughed.“God, you’re such a child sometimes.I didn’t compare your places at all.Just gave an honest assessment of a really, really good bakery.” 

Bucky leveled his gaze at her.“Better than mine?”

“You’re not gonna catch me,” Natasha said, wrapping her hands around her coffee cup and smiling.“You both have great businesses.I can’t imagine what it would be like if you teamed up-”

“Impossible.Joker teaming up with Batman-level impossible.”

Natasha held up a hand.“Well, actually, in issue #111 of the Brave and the Bold-”

Bucky burst out laughing.“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?My god, Nat, you need to find new hobbies.”

“It was an interesting issue,” she said stubbornly.“Even if it was all a set-up in the end.”

“Still not gonna happen,” Bucky said stubbornly.“Thanks for the coffee, though.”

“Sure,” she said easily.“What are you working on?” 

“Oh, just trying to figure out what to bring to Bite of Brooklyn,” Bucky said, moving the danishes from their silpat to a cooling rack.“I mean, I’m not worried about it at all, I just want to come up with something more original than strawberry or vanilla.”

Natasha blinked.“You’re not worried?”

“Why would I be?” Bucky asked, shrugging.“I’ve won it the last three years, haven’t I?”

“James,” Natasha said slowly, “Capitol Cakes is going to be there.”

Bucky grabbed the baking sheet so hard with his left hand the metal dented.“What?”

“It was in my review.But… I guess you didn’t see that, since you didn’t read it.”

He ground his teeth, focusing on releasing the baking sheet without causing any more damage.“Astute, Natalia.” 

“Well, at least now you know,” she said, watching him with narrowed eyes.“Bucky, they seem like really nice guys.I saw them at Logan’s the other night, that’s how I found out they’d entered.”

“Don’t care if they’re _nice guys_ ,” Bucky grumbled under his breath. 

Natasha shook her head.“Maybe try grabbing a beer with them sometime.”

“Steve doesn’t want to get beer with me,” Bucky said, knowing it sounded petulant but not caring. 

“Steve isn’t the only one running the business,” Natasha pointed out. 

Bucky knew he wasn’t getting out of the argument, so he relented.A little lying never hurt anyone.“Maybe next week.” 

Natasha’s mouth quirked up in that smile she did when she knew someone wasn’t telling the truth.“That’s all I ask.” 

“Clear out,” Bucky said, waving her out.“I’ve got work to do.”

Natasha smiled over her shoulder as she exited the kitchen.“Have fun!”

Bucky heard the front door close behind her and turned back to the list that was lying on the counter.Yeah, he was so fucked. 

#

America got to work five minutes late, hair frizzy and bags under her eyes, bearing a cup of coffee the size of her head.Bucky watched as she leaned on the counter for a minute and closed her eyes. 

“Rough night?” Bucky asked, trying so hard not to laugh.Not like he hadn’t been there.

America fixed him with a stare that would have made lesser men cower, but Bucky was friends with Natasha.He knew death stares intimately.“You think?”

Bucky couldn’t hold back his smile anymore.“MJ comes in at 7:30, I can probably survive with just three today.We finished that order for the Osbornes yesterday, so all we really need to do today are the last touches on Pepper’s and get the red velvet made, dry iced, and covered in fondant for the Murdock order.”

America stared at him blankly.“Who’s gonna make the sugar lilies if not me?”

Bucky stared down at the floor.“I was gonna-”

“No, I’m staying, I might just need to throw up again,” America said.“Do you want to get coffee? I should be okay until you get back.”

“Thanks girl,” Bucky said, slipping out the back door and into the alleyway behind the shop.It was already uncomfortably warm outside and Bucky thought longingly of winter as he played with the hem of his flannel.It was easier to cover up his arm most days than deal with the questions it prompted, were he to wear short sleeves.

Hawkeye’s looked deserted, but when Bucky opened the door, he realized he couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Steve Rogers was standing next to the bar, eyes widened almost comically as he stared at Bucky. 

“Uh.Hi,” Steve said quietly, gripping a paper bag in one hand and a to-go cup in the other.He didn’t look well, Bucky thought - there were bruise-like shadows under his eyes and his hair wasn’t styled the way it had been the other day.He looked tired.Was it safe for him to be drinking coffee?The guy looked like he probably had about six heart problems - what if the caffeine negatively affected his system?

“Rogers,” Bucky said, and _Jesus Christ_ couldn’t he just be _civil_?“What are you doing here?”

Steve frowned, glancing down at the bag in his hand and then back up at Bucky.“I get all the coffee for my shop from here.Did Clint-”

“Did someone say my name?” Clint said, poking his head out from the back room.“Okay… this looks bad.”

Steve smiled uncomfortably, and Bucky almost felt bad.He was very aware that it was his behavior that was making Steve uneasy, but he also liked watching him squirm.

“Sorry about this, I’ll just go,” Steve said, pushing past Bucky to get to the door.“See you on Monday.”

“Sorry in advance,” Bucky said casually, just to see what Steve would do.

As expected, Steve stopped halfway through the door.“Sorry for what?”

“Beating your ass,” Bucky said, in a way that could have been considered friendly, had Steve and Bucky actually been friends.

Steve nodded, and as he did, Bucky thought he saw a bruise on Steve’s collarbone.Had something happened to him?Had Steve gotten in a fight?

_Why did he even care?_

“Yeah,” Steve said, face twisting up into the first genuine smile Bucky had seen out of him.“We’ll see.”

Bucky wanted to respond - wanted to stop him, ask him how he got that bruise - but Steve was out the door and down the block by the time he could formulate a question.

Kate wolf-whistled.“Damn, Bucky, you should see your face.Got a crush?”

“I fuckin’ hate that guy, Kate,” Bucky huffed.“And there’s more important things to deal with right now.” 

“Such as?” Kate said, smirk still firmly in place. 

Bucky turned to Clint, who had been standing in the doorway, watching the exchange with apprehension. 

“Barton?” Bucky said, coming around the counter and clapping Clint on the shoulder.“Let’s talk.”

“How ‘bout you take a nap instead?Go pet a dog?”

Bucky shook his head.“Not a chance.” 

“Today sucks,” Clint complained, leading Bucky to a table against the wall.“Kate, when this is over, I’m going back to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this definitely probably maybe would've been up sooner if not for the fact that ive walked 25 miles the past two days trying to diversify my pokedex
> 
> holla at me if you like :) you know i love all of you <333


	6. the one where steve makes a Damn Good Cupcake and stares at james a Bit Too Much

Well, at least it was a nice day, Steve thought as he put the finishing touches on his orange-infused chocolate cupcake with chocolate hazelnut swiss buttercream.He’d already finished the vanilla option (a vanilla bean cupcake with espresso chip buttercream), and Sam was loading them into the car along with their banner and serving wares.

“Steve, I really, _really_ don’t think you should go,” Sam said for probably the eighteenth time as he came back into the kitchen.Steve looked up from where he was placing orange curls on the last two cupcakes.

“I know.But I’m going anyways.I’ll be okay, man.”

Sam held his hands up in surrender.“Okay, dude.But if you pass out or something, that means I’m gonna have to be the one dragging your sorry ass to the hospital, and I’m not gonna be happy about it.”

Steve placed the last cupcake into a carrier and closed it up.“Then I won’t pass out, problem solved.”

Sam mumbled something that sounded like, “If only it were that easy,” but Steve ignored him. 

Honestly, he knew Sam was probably right.Steve had been up until three in the morning fine-tuning the swiss buttercream, and had only gone to bed when Sam realized he wasn’t in the apartment, came down to the kitchen, and physically dragged him up the stairs.Since they were closed on Mondays, Steve had been able to sleep a bit before having to get up and finish making the cupcakes they’d be taking to Bite of Brooklyn.

Steve was pretty convinced that he’d put together a winning recipe in the chocolate cupcakes, and the vanilla were always popular, since they were one of their flagship flavors in the summer.He thought again of James, and the whole interaction they’d had earlier that week at Hawkeye’s. Steve implicitly understood why James seemed to hate him so much: James probably felt as if Steve was trying to replace him.It was an odd thought; Steve was fairly sure he’d never been the subject of jealousy before, mostly because he was small and skinny and had a list of health problems the size of his arm.But he knew how it looked to James - another baker coming into town, setting up shop, getting coffee at his friend’s roastery, cozying up to Natasha….

It was almost enough to make Steve feel bad. But Steve had a very problematic tendency to accept any challenge presented to him, and James had challenged him the first time they met.He wasn’t about to back down. 

“Peggy’s meeting us there?” Sam said as they finished loading the cupcakes into the van. 

Steve nodded.“She took Angie to Manhattan this morning; she’s got an audition for a Broadway show and Peggy wanted to be there to wish her luck.”

Sam nodded.“Thank god she actually wanted to come work for us.”

Steve fervently agreed.Peggy had come in the day after Natasha gave them her number, strolling through their door in a red sundress that did just _sinful_ things to her figure. 

“Are you Steve Rogers?” she’d said in a lilting British accent, holding out her hand.Steve nodded dumbly, having a hard time stringing two words together because she was so gorgeous and he always got anxious around beautiful women.“It’s so good to meet you,” Peggy said as she and Steve shook.He noticed a wedding band on her left hand and forced himself to communicate - she was _married_ , Rogers, for Christ’s sake get a _grip_.

“Nice to meet you, too, Peggy,” he said, thankfully without sounding like he was just emerging from puberty.“Do you want to sit down with some coffee and talk?”

Peggy smiled, and Steve’s stupid heart jumped a little bit.“That sounds lovely.”

“So,” Steve said once he’d poured them coffee and they’d taken a seat at one of the window tables, “what experience do you have with working in the culinary industry?”

“Absolutely none,” Peggy said.“Natasha and I served together.I’m looking to get out, spend more time with my wife, and build something of a life here in New York.” 

Steve leaned back in his chair.“All right then.Can you start today?”

And that had been it. 

Peggy was an excellent worker, and had already made several improvements to what Steve thought were his flagship recipes.She also had a great eye for color, which Steve appreciated due to his partial colorblindness, and he knew she would be very helpful when special orders began to come in. 

They arrived at Prospect Park, which was probably the only location big enough to host such an event.The entirety of Parkside Avenue had been closed down and traffic rerouted south, and Steve could only imagine the logistical nightmare it was causing the city.The sheer number of restaurants in Brooklyn hadn’t really occurred to Steve until he saw the seemingly endless row of canopies and wondered how it was possible for attendees to try “bites” from all of them. 

Steve knew, logically, that it was only a tiny fraction of Brooklyn eateries that were represented; he had a feeling that Tony pulled some strings to get them into the competition.Most of the businesses seemed to be from the north side of Brooklyn - Bed-Stuy, Sunset Park, and Williamsburg all looked well-represented, judging by the banners Steve saw as they passed by already set-up tents.They received their stall number and drove towards what Steve assumed was the section reserved for bakeries and dessert parlors; there were a couple other bakeries from Sunset Park and Red Hook already laying out their displays.

Steve and Sam had just finished pitching the canopy and were about to start in on the tables when Billy showed up. 

“Hey, guys,” he said, looking a little awkward in a very endearing way.“I just was wondering if you needed any help.” 

Sam looked around for something he could do.“Wanna try and find the box of business cards?” 

“Sure,” Billy said, and disappeared into the van. 

“Kid’s sweet,” Sam said, sliding the table legs into place.“How much time do we have?”

Steve checked his phone.“About a half hour before the event officially starts.”

Sam stopped what he was doing, looking at a point over Steve’s shoulder.“Hey, is that Barnes?”

Glancing over to his left, Steve saw James, who was setting up his canopy with the help of a young woman.“Yep,” he said passively.He tried not to think about how good James looked.He was wearing tapered jeans and boat shoes with a long-sleeved black v-neck, his hair swept back once again into that trademark man bun.He must’ve been hot; it was already over 80 degrees, and Steve didn’t imagine those jeans provided a lot of breathing room.God, Steve wanted to lick a line from his pecs to his neck, and he needed to stop that thought _right there_ because this was _James_ and James _hated_ him and if he was being honest, Steve didn’t particularly like him back. 

“See something you like?” came Peggy’s voice from right next to his ear, and he shuddered before jumping forward a step. 

“No, just scoping out the competition,” he lied, and he knew Peggy saw right through it.Her ability to detect bullshit was incredibly strong, likely stemming from the years she spent serving. 

“Okay,” she said, “I believe you.”

“Damn it, Steve, couldn’t you have done a better job packing this goddamn car?” came Sam’s voice from inside the depths of the van. 

Steve shook his head, smiling.“I have a system!It’s not my fault you don’t understand it!”

“Then help me and Billy find the stupid business cards, we got no idea where you packed them with all this other bullshit - fuck!” Sam swore as a loud thud emanated from the van. 

“I’m coming,” Steve sighed, and said to Peggy, “Can you just get the tablecloth out and the banner up?Oh, and your handwriting is better than all of ours, so do you want to do the chalkboard as well?”

Peggy nodded.“Got it, go help before one of them actually injures themselves.”

#

It had been two hours since the start of the event and it had somehow (impossibly) gotten hotter.Steve thought that if the temperature rose any more he might actually combust.James seemed to be feeling the same way - Steve kept sneaking glances over to their tent to see if James would ever roll up his sleeves.So far, it hadn’t happened.

Traffic had been good, and the response to the chocolate cupcake had been excellent.James had brought a White Russian cupcake and a classic salted caramel cupcake with what looked to be caramel swiss buttercream and some brittle on top.Steve’s mouth was watering just looking at them, and while he was very confident in his own baking ability, he was slightly concerned that James might actually be better.

Steve handed out another mini cupcake and, suddenly exhausted, motioned Sam forward to take his place. 

“You doing all right?” Sam asked quietly as Steve sat down in one of the camp chairs they’d brought. 

Steve nodded.“Yeah, just a little tired.Probably from baking all these damn cupcakes.”

“Take tomorrow off, okay?You deserve it.Just… go sketch at the park or something,” Sam said, restocking their dwindling pile of business cards. 

“Just go talk to him!” Peggy said abruptly, and Steve thought for a moment she was talking to him before he noticed Billy start nervously. 

“Shh!” Billy said, glancing furtively over at James’ tent.Steve followed his gaze and saw another guy, blond, a little buff, and about Billy’s age, talking animatedly to the girl working the tent.James was nowhere in sight.“He’s probably straight anyways.”

“With hair that nice and those ear piercings?” Peggy challenged.“Not likely.” 

“I don’t want to be creepy,” Billy protested, but Steve could see Peggy wearing him down. 

“You’re being more creepy by standing here staring at him,” she said, pushing him gently forward.“Go!”

Peggy giggled as Billy stumbled across the street and introduced himself to the two kids, who seemed to receive him warmly, even when he gestured back at Capitol Cakes’ tent (seemingly to indicate he was working it).He and the blond guy took off down the street, leaving the girl alone at the tent.Steve didn’t think she minded much. 

Peggy had departed and things were beginning to wind down when James finally reappeared, and it seemed he’d finally broken down with the heat; he was wearing a red t-shirt that exposed his arms from the bicep down.Steve noticed that the entirety of the left one seemed to be metal, comprised of plates that shifted as he moved.The girl said something to him, and James looked over at Steve’s table.Steve hastily looked away, trying to appear as if he hadn’t been staring. 

“Should we start to pack up?” Sam asked quietly, gesturing towards their nearly empty cupcake carriers. 

Steve nodded and started to gather up the displays.“I think we’ll find out later tonight who ended up winning.”

“We’ve got it, man,” Sam said.

“We don’t know that yet,” Steve said, erasing the small chalkboard that had the cupcake flavors written on it.“Have I told you lately how lucky I am to have you as my partner?”

Sam laughed.“Why do you say that?”

“Who else would take over ordering and logistics and everything if I didn’t have you?” Steve said, and his tone was joking but he meant it.“You give me time to dick around with new recipes so we can hope to win stuff like this.”

“Well,” Sam considered, “at least I don’t gotta wake up at the asscrack of dawn every morning.” 

“No, only some mornings,” Steve agreed, folding up the tablecloth.“C’mon, let’s go home.”

#

When they got back to the bakery, all Steve wanted to do was sleep for about sixteen hours.But he had dough to prepare for the following morning, cinnamon rolls to start rising, and buttercream to prepare. 

“Can’t it wait?” Sam asked, exasperated, as they finished unloading the car.

“Unless you want to be waking up at 3:30 AM tomorrow to help me with it, not really.”

Sam shrugged.“Fine.I would say that I’d drag you out of here again if you were up too late, but unfortunately, I can’t.I’ve got a date,” he said, grinning. 

Steve stopped halfway through fitting the stand mixer with the dough attachment.“You called her?!”

“Yep,” Sam said, leaning up against the counter.“Called her, and am taking her out to dinner at that nice dim sum place in Sunset Park.” 

“Nice,” Steve said appreciatively.“I’m sure you’ll have a great time.Just don’t say anything to offend her; I’m pretty sure she’s trained on how to kill men with nothing more than a salad fork.”

“Wouldn’t even be hard with a chopstick,” Sam lamented, shaking his head.“Okay, yeah, will do.”

“And you’d better not come home tonight.It’s been too long since you went out and, you know….”Steve trailed off, blushing slightly. 

“Had sex?” Sam prompted, chuckling.“Is that how it is?”

Steve laughed as he leveled flour and some of it drifted upwards to settle on his nose.“Oh, that’s how it is.”

“Okay, I’m gonna go change and take off.I’ll see you later, Steve.Don’t forget to eat!”

Steve shook his head, smiling to himself.It was truly incredible how he could work around food every day and still forget to eat real meals.He was pretty sure they had a frozen pizza upstairs, and was thankful - he could bake, but his cooking was abysmal in comparison. 

He lost himself in the process of baking, and had started in on his third batch of swiss buttercream when his phone’s email tone sounded.He abandoned the meringue entirely and checked his email, eager to see if it was the competition announcing the winners.It was - he scrolled down to “Best Dessert” and -

 _Capitol Cakes_.

Steve let out a yell that was probably too loud and certainly would have been heard by Sam, were he still in the apartment and not out on a date with Natasha. _Yes!_ He’d done it!Beaten James, and -

He stopped.Should he really feel this good about it?Steve was a competitive person, but he wasn’t one to gloat, and he certainly wasn’t one to lord a victory over someone else.He forced himself to calm down and look at the situation rationally - James had won every other year he’d been open, and Steve knew James’ cupcakes had been fantastic.Even if he hadn’t tried them, the flavor combinations were as good as, if not better than, Steve’s.You didn’t become the best cakery in Brooklyn without a good reason.

Maybe he should apologize, Steve thought.After all, he had been a little harsh to James, especially when he’d insulted the unoriginality of his cupcake flavors.He had just finished putting his last cinnamon roll pan in the fridge to rise overnight and resolved to go over to Barnes’ in the morning when he heard a knock on the kitchen door. 

It wasn’t the door that led out to the shop front, but the door to the alleyway, the one specifically reserved for deliveries and that was a little bit too out-of-the-way for a random customer to find.It was probably Tony, Steve thought, coming to either rib him or congratulate him.Wearily, Steve opened the door. 

It wasn’t Tony at all, or even Clint, coming to drop off more coffee. 

It was James. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had a bit of a block with this one, trying to figure out how i wanted to structure the next few chapters, but i think ive got it now :) the next one should be forthcoming probably tomorrow!!!! 
> 
> also pokemon still rules my life, im sorry but i really just gotta catch 'em all 
> 
> <33 love you all and leave me a kudos or a note if you liked it! you can also find/message me on tumblr at amerrichavez :D


	7. a late night rendezvous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i know i said it would be up yesterday and then it wasnt :( 
> 
> also i had a really bad headache while writing this so im sorry if there are typos or whatever im gonna go back through it later when i can actually think straight

Bucky was hot, tired, and stress baking.

He’d sent America home from the festival as soon as everything was unloaded from the van, and Bucky had no idea where Teddy had disappeared to.Clint was busy, Natasha was apparently reviewing a new restaurant, and Bucky was alone waiting for the email to arrive.

_The email._ Bucky wanted to scream.This shouldn’t have even been an issue - Capitol Cakes hadn’t been a part of Bucky’s five year plan when he laid it out for his therapist three years ago.His five year plan had looked something like this:

_1\. Be owner of best bakery in Brooklyn._

_2\. Have found a way to manage my PTSD._

_3\. Be happy._

And then Steve Rogers had come along with his _fucking_ bakery, ruined one of the things on Bucky’s five year plan, and was well on his way to ruining a second. 

He turned the stand mixer up higher, adding in cubes of butter to his meringue one at a time, waiting for that moment the frosting would go from shiny and runny to whipped and fluffy.Bucky was making one of his favorite cupcakes - a plain vanilla cake with a chocolate swiss buttercream.He had no interest in eating them and had no real conception of what to do with them, but he needed to bake something or he might actually punch a hole in the wall. 

Bucky had just finished piping the first cupcake when his phone buzzed.Already feeling like he knew what he was going to find, Bucky propped up the piping bag in a glass and opened his email. 

Best Bakery had gone to Capitol Cakes.There was no listed runner-up. 

He took a deep breath.It wasn’t like he hadn’t expected it.When Rogers had shown up in his _ridiculous_ rolled up khakis and blue button down with two incredible looking cupcakes, Bucky had started to prepare himself.But it was still different, seeing it there on the email.Bucky _hated_ losing, and this loss confirmed what he’d been worried about - that Steve Rogers _was_ a better baker than him - that he was no longer the best.

Taking a deep breath, he put his phone in his back pocket and grabbed his keys.He had to talk to Steve, had to explain to him why he was ruining Bucky’s life, why he should just move to a different neighborhood, a different city -

Bucky pulled the kitchen door shut behind him and set off down the block.The city was growing dark, the sun setting over Manhattan, and he dropped a couple bucks in the case of a sidewalk saxophone player as he passed by.He knew exactly where Steve’s shop was, having passed by it nearly every morning on his way to and from Hawkeye’s, and figured there’d be an entrance in the alleyway.Bucky stormed up to the door and knocked twice, hoping pathetically that Steve was in there, that he would answer.

Just as Bucky had convinced himself to make a run for it - that coming all the way over to Steve’s was a dumb idea, that Steve wouldn’t want to see him anyway - Rogers opened the door. 

He was wearing the same clothes as earlier, but they were dusted with flour and powdered sugar.Bucky’s eyes drifted to a small smudge of flour on Steve’s nose, and fought the sudden urge to brush it away. 

“James,” Steve said, evidently shocked by Bucky’s sudden and unexplained appearance at his back door, and doing a very poor job at hiding it.“What can I do for you?”

Bucky tried to talk, to send any sort of signal to his brain that indicated, _yes, this is where you speak actual real sentences_ \- but all he could think about was the way Steve was wearing a long waist apron that showed handprints of powdered sugar, and how Steve’s neck was smeared in at least two places with chocolate cake batter, and how Bucky maybe wanted to lick the batter from his skin.

“Would you like to come in?” Steve asked politely, stepping aside.Bucky finally moved, pushing brusquely past Steve into the kitchen. 

It was smaller than his, but the appliances were a model or two newer, and Bucky could tell that it was very well-organized.There were a few pots soaking in the sink, and one of them looked like it had contained caramel.It was one of Bucky’s favorite non-cake related things to make; caramel was very temperamental and needed to be kept at the exact right temperature in order for it to remain soft after it cooled.He had made salted caramel cupcakes for Bite of Brooklyn in part for an excuse to make butter caramel to drizzle over the top.

“What were you baking?” Bucky asked, impressed at the stability in his own voice. 

Steve blushed.“I saw your cupcakes today - the salted caramel looked incredible.I just wanted to try….”

Bucky opened the fridge to find the caramel cooling.“You’ve overheated it,” he said.

“No, I didn’t,” Steve protested, and Bucky smiled at the way Steve’s voice rose.God, it was so much easier to be mad at Steve Rogers when he was angry. 

“Well, when your caramel cools hard and chewy enough to take out a filling, don’t come crying to me.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed.“So what, you think that just because you lost some dumb competition and you feel all hurt you can come in here and insult my baking?”

“No,” Bucky said heatedly, “I think I can come in here and insult your baking because I’m pissed off that one week after some fucking _punk_ comes in and opens up another shop he’s already trying to upstage my signature salted caramel cupcakes!”

“ _Your_ signature salted caramel cupcakes?” Steve scoffed, taking a step closer to Bucky and looking like he was preparing for a fight.“Pal, I’ve got news for you - salted caramel has become so common nationwide that almost every cupcake place-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, you just wanted to prove you could make it better than me!” Bucky said heatedly, pushing off the counter in his rage and taking a few steps closer to Steve. 

“So let’s just all get jealous over cupcake flavors and a dumb certificate!” Steve shouted.“I wouldn’t have even _entered_ this thing if it weren’t for Tony basically forcing it on us!”

Bucky thought he was going to have an aneurysm.“ _Tony_ entered you?”

“Yes, because he wanted you to have some competition!”They were standing very close together now, only two feet of floor in between them.“And, you know,” Steve continued, “it wasn’t exactly the best time to be entering something like this but considering your reaction to our mere presence in the neighborhood, I _really_ wanted to win.”

“Go ahead, then,” Bucky said, taking another half-step closer and gripping the stainless steel countertop to his left with such force he must have been denting the metal.“Go ahead and tell me how wrong I was-”

“I’m not gonna do that, because even though you’re a complete jerk, you’re still a good baker-”

Bucky laughed in disbelief.“After all that smack-talk-”

“What do you want from me anyways?It’s not like we can move out of the neighborhood-”

“Well, you could-”

“But we aren’t gonna, because I have the right to set up a business here and I have this amazing space and Sam and I are building a life-”

“And where is Sam, huh?Good friend, not staying with you when you look like you’re half dead on your feet-”

“He’s on a date!”

Bucky laughed.“With who, you just moved-”

Steve took another step forward so that they were almost nose-to-nose. Steve’s eyes were startlingly blue even in the half-light of a kitchen at night, and he was breathing a little heavily from the argument.Bucky wanted to trace his clavicle with his tongue. “With Natasha, your food blogging friend-”

“Natasha?!Jesus, Rogers, can’t you just make your own friends-”

“I don’t know, James,” Steve retorted, “how about you stop making such a big deal about everything and act like an adult-”

Bucky scoffed.“Oh, right, like it’s just me-”

“-and just _shut up_!”

Very suddenly, without really knowing how it had happened or who had instigated it or even exactly what he was doing, Bucky was kissing Steve. 

He tasted like cinnamon and butter with a hint of almond and Bucky was instantly addicted.He wound his metal arm around Steve’s waist and lifted him up onto the counter so that the height differential wasn’t as crippling, and Steve readily wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist and pulled him in so that Bucky’s chest was flush against Steve’s. 

He ran his hands up Steve’s chest and cupped his cheek while burying the other in Steve’s hair, pulling slightly to elicit a moan from him.Bucky licked his way into Steve’s mouth, tracing the shape of his teeth, and thought passively that nothing could be better than this.Steve wound one hand underneath Bucky’s shirt, and he shivered as Steve traced his Apollo’s belt with cold fingertips, small shards of soft ice dancing across his skin. 

“James,” Steve gasped as Bucky finally moved down to lick that chocolate batter from his neck.He pressed his tongue against the skin, sucking small bruises onto Steve’s clavicle.Bucky trailed his hand down Steve’s chest to the very noticeable, surprisingly large bulge in his khakis.Steve hissed with pleasure. 

“Please,” Steve said, moving his hand from Bucky’s hipbone down to his jeans, where he was harder than he’d been in recent memory.God, all Bucky wanted was Steve’s hand on him -

“Upstairs,” Steve panted, sliding off the counter and grabbing Bucky forcefully by his metal arm.Steve led them through a nondescript doorway and up a narrow flight of stairs, and as soon as they were inside Steve’s apartment, he spun Bucky around and slammed him against the door.

And - _yes,_ Bucky could get used to that. 

Demonstrating surprising strength, Steve pinned Bucky’s wrists to his sides and ground his hips against Bucky’s cock before leading him over to his bed.Bucky didn’t have much time to look around, but what he saw surprised him - Steve and Sam’s apartment was tiny, probably a third of the size of Bucky’s, and he was once again reminded of how lucky he was to have come from money. 

Steve made quick work of Bucky’s shirt and pants once they were on the bed, and as soon as Bucky’s dick was free, Steve had it in his mouth. 

This was where Bucky wanted to _live_ \- Steve’s mouth was the more attractive side of paradise, and watching Steve bob up and down, keeping eye contact with him the whole time - he might not like the guy, but he was hot as hell and sucked cock like a porn star. 

“Steve, holy _fuck_ ,” Bucky panted, trying to leave his metal arm at his side so that he wouldn’t do something stupid like accidentally crush Steve’s skull with it.Steve hummed around his dick and Bucky almost came right there, because it had been too long since he’d done this.He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex, and wasn’t sure he even wanted to. 

He watched as Steve unbuttoned his pants and started to stroke himself, and he needed Steve’s dick in his hand _right now_ so he pulled Steve off him with his flesh arm. 

“James?” Steve asked, confused, but Bucky shook his head and pulled Steve closer to him, finally wrapping his hand around Steve’s cock.Seeming to get with the program, Steve took Bucky in his hand and matched Bucky’s pace. 

It was almost more intimate, like this - painting into each other’s mouths, trading open kisses, trying to memorize the exact shade of Steve’s eyes in case this never happened again. 

“Shit, James, I’m gonna-” Steve said, body starting to tense, and Bucky dove back in for another heated kiss. 

“Yeah, come on, c’mon-”

Steve came silently, his body shaking uncontrollably and eyes screwed shut, mouth open just a bit as he let out a soundless cry. 

“Fuck,” Steve moaned, continuing to stroke Bucky until he came with a shout, getting come all over Steve’s hand and his bedspread. 

They collapsed backwards, breathing heavily, Bucky almost completely naked and Steve with his shirt and pants still halfway on. 

Bucky broke the silence first.“I still hate you, Steve Rogers.”

Steve laughed.“Good, ‘cause I don’t really like you either, James Barnes.”

“Call me Bucky,” he said without thinking about it. 

Steve looked over at him.“Bucky?”

“Short for my middle name, Buchanan.It’s - um, it’s what my friends call me.” 

“But we aren’t friends,” Steve said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I know,” Bucky said, reaching out to grab his shirt and put it back on.“But you’ve got my come on your hand, so I figured it was only fair.” 

Steve nodded thoughtfully.“Thanks, Bucky.” 

“Anytime,” Bucky said, pulling on his pants.“And - Steve?”

“Yeah, Buck?”

A small shiver ran down Bucky’s spine at that - not many people called him ‘Buck,’ and it sounded different coming from Steve - personal.Intimate. 

“Get some sleep, all right?You look like shit.” 

Steve laughed.“Okay.See you around.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said softly, closing the door to the apartment behind him.“Maybe you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idek yall idefk
> 
> chapters from here on out will probs be longer, since theyre finally actually interacting, so time between updates might stretch a bit :) ill also probably shake up the POV switches, doing a couple per chapter. i mean i dont know ill see where it takes me haha
> 
> Also I have cupcake porn photos from cupcakes made by yours truly and as soon as I figure out how to html their asses into an end note I'll put them in :))
> 
> Bucky's vanilla cupcakes with chocolate swiss buttercream:  
>   
> a few of my faves:   
>    
> 


	8. how to pick a fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> politics kinda dominated my waking hours there for a while. sorry about that! hoping to get better about updating :))
> 
> also, TW for a gay slur in this chapter - its down towards the end and not said by anyone we care about sooo

As soon as Bucky closed the door behind him, Steve felt anxiety settle over him like an ugly, heavy shroud. How the hell did he let that happen?He had just irrevocably complicated things between himself and James - _Bucky_ \- at a time when he really didn’t need any further complications in his life.Wearily, he got up and headed into the bathroom to clean up, stripping his sheets off his bed afterwards and throwing them in the wash. 

Since Steve had two hours until his sheets were clean again, he threw on a sweatshirt and went back down to the kitchen, casting around for something to bake to keep his mind off things.Distractedly, he pulled some butter out of the fridge and cut it into cubes to reach room temperature before starting to mix dry ingredients for spice cake. 

He’d never been the kind of guy to sleep around, to do casual one night stands.Steve tried to remember the last time he’d acted so impulsively in regards to sex and could only think of Sharon, back in his second year at Georgetown.She’d been beautiful and they’d had a couple drinks and they hadn’t spoken of it again.She had eventually graduated with a degree in Political Science and gone on to work for the CIA, and Steve hadn’t seen her since. 

As he added buttermilk to the mixer, Steve once again cursed his body for being fragile, for being so far from the masculine ideal that most people didn’t look twice at him.So how was it possible that James - that Bucky - had wanted to sleep with him? _Pity fuck_ , said a little voice in Steve’s head. _He doesn’t even like you._

It was probably true, Steve thought.Why would he?Bucky was strong, young, attractive - what did Steve have to offer someone like that?Of course, Steve considered, Bucky was also a complete asshole, but who wasn’t, in the end?

Steve slid the cupcake tins into the oven and leaned backwards against the stainless steel counter.He was just so _tired_.They shouldn’t have entered Bite of Brooklyn, it was all too soon, too new.Already, Steve’s inbox was filling up with requests for special orders, even though they weren’t supposed to be filling them until late July.His heartbeat picked up as he considered the impossibility of what lay ahead for Capitol Cakes - building his business back up in a new place, forming a customer base, managing his own life, all while in contention with another baker just down the street….

Suddenly feeling like he couldn’t breathe, Steve took the cupcakes out of the oven unfinished and concentrated solely on regulating his breathing.He’d left his inhaler upstairs - _stupid, Steve!_ \- and his lungs were straining like he’d just run a mile, throat closing up and he realized he’d forgotten somehow to eat even though Sam _told_ him to specifically and his vision was clouding with black spots and -

 _At least the cupcakes won’t burn_ , he thought, and then he passed out. 

#

Something was beeping next to his ear.It was loud, obnoxious, and Steve wanted to roll away from it, but he couldn’t get his limbs to move.Underneath the beeping was the low sound of music coming from phone speakers - he listened, identifying “Trouble Man,” which could only mean one thing. 

Steve groaned. 

“He lives,” came Sam’s voice from his right, sardonic but certainly concerned.

“Are you sure?” Steve said, opening one eye and looking over at Sam, who was nothing more than a blur since Steve wasn’t wearing his glasses.“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“You know, I really thought we’d made progress,” Sam said, setting down a magazine he’d been reading and handing Steve his glasses. “You made it almost six months this time.”

Steve finally heaved his head off the pillow, looking around the hospital room for the first time.It was nicer than the Brooklyn hospital rooms he’d stayed in as a kid, and he glanced out the window to unfamiliar buildings.“Are we in Manhattan?”

Sam nodded. “Tony had me bring you over here.I guess he owns the place.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Steve said, turning back to Sam.“We can’t afford this right now, and I know I told you I’d be careful.”

“Tony said he’s taking care of it,” Sam said, shrugging.“It was dehydration, exhaustion, an asthma attack - nothing out of the ordinary for you.”

Steve frowned. “How long was I out for?I thought you were gonna be gone with Natasha all night.”

“I was,” Sam nodded, “but she got a call from Barnes and had to run off.They’re close, served together in the army.I guess he had some sort of personal emergency.”

Steve only nodded; he felt like he had something blocking his trachea.Bucky had panicked and called Natasha.Had it really been that awful?

“So I came home to find a half baked batch of spice cakes on the counter and you on the floor, and here we are.” 

“Shit, Sam,” Steve sighed.“I should’ve been more careful.” 

“Yeah,” Sam agreed easily, “but you go hard, Rogers.Remember junior year, when you had that massive exam for your Renaissance art class, but you insisted on going door to door for Obama?” 

Steve laughed and shook his head.“And we ran into that group of Romney supporters who tried to convince us that women should be forced to have abortions?”

“Yeah, and you decked one across the jaw and I had to drag you away before you got stabbed.And then you went home and studied for seven hours-”

“And I aced the test,” Steve finished, grinning with Sam.“Yeah, I remember.”

“You’ve never had any chill, man,” Sam said, reaching out to grasp Steve’s shoulder.“I expect this sort of thing now.”

“What a relief,” Steve said sarcastically.“So when can you spring me?”

“Anytime.They just wanted to get some fluid in you and let you rest up a bit.”

“Mission accomplished,” Steve said, sitting up and swinging his feet over the side of the bed.“Let’s go, I’ve got a batch of spice cakes to finish.”

“You just can’t give it a rest, can you?”

#

The rest of June passed in a blur of heat and pink lemonade cupcakes.Steve had a faint suspicion that Sam had asked Peggy to keep an eye on him when they were working in the kitchen.She regularly passed Steve glasses of water and shoved food into his hands, shushing him when he protested or tried to ask why she was doing it. 

Steve reached out to Peter Parker, who was managing their website, and asked him to ensure the special ordering page for the website was up and running.It would make it easier for Steve and Sam to manage the requests coming in and set up appointments with with the people whose orders they could actually handle. 

He hadn’t seen Bucky in a little over a week, and was starting to wonder if Bucky was avoiding him on purpose. 

“Why would he do that, man?” Sam said when Steve voiced his concerns over a beer at Wolverine. 

Steve cast around for an excuse; he hadn’t told Sam about the one night stand, and any apparent oddity in Steve’s behavior that night had been eclipsed by his hospital stay.“Because we beat him out for Best Dessert?”

Sam shrugged and swirled the beer inside his glass.“Why are you so obsessed with the guy anyways?”

Steve stiffened.“I’m not obsessed with him!”

“You’ve mentioned him almost every day since you first met him,” Sam said, rolling his eyes.“You have a crush, Rogers?”

“You’re a dick,” Steve complained, glaring over at Sam. 

Sam laughed.“Let’s go out tonight.Ever since we hit 23, we never do anything fun anymore.”

“It’s a Thursday!Nobody goes out on Thursdays!”

“It’s New York!” Sam countered, waving his hand in what was unmistakably a dismissal.“Text Peggy and Angie, see if they wanna come.”

Steve knew he wouldn’t let it drop, so he pulled out his phone and started to compose a message.“What brought this on?” he asked skeptically, glancing up at Sam.“You aren’t honestly going to try and convince me that this wasn’t planned out.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam sniffed as Steve sent the message and received a response a mere fifteen seconds later. 

**Pegs: of course we’ll be there! Where and what time??**

“They’re coming,” Steve said, finally conceding.“Where are we going?”

Sam took a hasty gulp of his beer.“Someone was telling me about this one place… the Red Room, I think it was?”

“This person wouldn’t happen to be Natasha, would it?” Steve deadpanned.

“‘Course not.That would be dishonest and sneaky, and you know I’m not like that.”

“You’re not?” Steve asked.“How was the sex last night?”

A sort of dreamy smile came over Sam’s face.“It was - wait!No!That’s cheating!”

“Sneaky,” Steve said, throwing down the rest of his session ale and standing up.“C’mon, then, let’s go.”

Peggy and Angie met them at Wade’s, a dive bar that was only a block away from the Red Room. 

“Steve, you _have_ to try this chimichanga,” Angie said as soon as Steve and Sam had sat down at their table.Peggy smiled sweetly at him and pushed the plate across the table.“They’re the best in Brooklyn, I swear.”

Steve scowled at the two of them as he took a bite.“Are you trying to make me fat?” he asked, but had to admit that the chimichanga was pretty incredible.

“You couldn’t get fat if you tried,” Peggy said, rolling her eyes.“I swear, Steven, you eat more cupcakes than anyone I know and you’re still thirty pounds too skinny.”

“You like it,” Steve teased, taking another bite of the chimichanga because _honestly_ it was _that good_. 

“You know I do,” Peggy said, winking.She winced when Angie elbowed her in the ribs. 

“Babe, how many times do I gotta tell you to quit flirting with Steve around me?It’s enough to make a girl jealous.” 

Peggy laughed and batted her eyelashes at Angie.“I’m sure Steve would be up for a threesome, wouldn’t you, dear?” she asked, glancing over at Steve. 

Sam howled with laughter as Steve blushed all the way down to his collarbones.“C’mon now,” Sam said.“You’re embarrassing him.”

“I’m going to get drinks,” Steve grumbled.He could still hear them laughing when he reached the bar. 

“What can I get you?” the bartender said, winking at him.Steve tried very hard not to notice the guy’s tattoos, a few of which looked like they’d been given in very unsanitary conditions - like prison, or the army.He spotted what he thought was a Yakuza mark, and quickly stopped looking. 

“Four shots of tequila,” Steve answered automatically, and winced.He hated tequila, it always got him too fucked up.But the bartender had already started pouring, so Steve handed him his card and told him to keep the tab open before heading back to the table with the small tray of limes and shot glasses. 

“Tequila?” Sam asked, sounding about as surprised as Steve felt.“Someone wants to get sloshed, huh?”

“I didn’t mean to order them, it just sorta came out,” Steve said as he distributed the glasses and the limes.

“Sure,” said Peggy and Angie at the same time. 

They tipped back the shots, and Steve winced at how tragically bad the tequila was.

“Fuck,” Sam said, setting down the glass.“Shit’s terrible.Steve, you got a tab open?”

Steve nodded and shoved his glass away from him, discarded lime inside.“Unfortunately.”

Sam laughed.“All right, I’ll put the next round on you.”

As Sam got up to get more drinks, Steve leaned his head back against the booth.He could already feel the alcohol warming his body, and knew that two more drinks would see him drunk. 

“You doing all right, Steve?” Peggy asked, nudging his foot under the table. 

“Yeah,” Steve lied, grinning.His mind flashed back to Bucky - what was he doing tonight?Worse yet, would Natasha ask him to go to the Red Room with her?Would Steve actually have to _see_ him? 

Sam came back with four highball glasses, all filled with a drink that was a toxic shade of blue.Steve _really_ hoped they weren’t AMFs. 

“AMFs!” Sam announced, setting them down on the table. 

Steve sighed.It was going to be a long night.

#

“No, don’t make me wear this,” Bucky protested, looking at his reflection in the mirror with distaste. 

Natasha fidgeted with the sleeves of his shirt and stepped back, looking pleased.“You have to dress up for this place, James.Do you think they’re going to let you in if you look like you just stepped out of a mechanic’s?”

“Yes,” Bucky said sullenly, trying to wedge his phone into his front pocket only to discover his jeans were too tight to do so.“Do you see this?I can’t even move in these.It’s like a straightjacket.This should be punishable by law.” 

“Complain to the patriarchy, not to me,” Nat said, stepping behind him to wrap her arms around his waist.The heels she was wearing made her just tall enough to rest her chin on Bucky’s shoulder. 

Bucky didn’t really understand that statement, but finished buttoning up his shirt anyways.“Where are we going again?”

“The Red Room, James,” Natasha said with the air of someone who has explained something to a child about ten times already.“And Clint should be here any minute to pre-game.”

“We’re too old for this, Nat,” Bucky sighed, turning around to face her.“It’s a Thursday, for Christ’s sake!Nobody goes out on Thursdays!”

“It’s a Thursday in New York,” Natasha reminded him, “so there will undoubtedly be people there.Now quit whining and have fun.You’ve been such a wet blanket since the whole Bite of Brooklyn thing-”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Bucky grumbled, even though he knew it sounded petulant and childish, which just proved her point. 

She raised her eyebrows like she knew exactly what he was thinking.“It’s a good club, James - it’s got a whole bar area up in the front so that if the bass gets overwhelming, you can go hang out there.It’s great that you care so much about your work, but you have to remember to _live_ , too.” 

“Who says I’m not living?” Bucky protested, even though he knew he was going to lose the argument.

Natasha shrugged.“Me.”

Someone knocked on the door, and Bucky pulled away.“Okay,” he said, walking over to the entryway, “You’re right.”He opened the door to Clint dressed in purple and black, a bandage across the bridge of his nose and a small cut above his left eye.“What the hell happened to you?” Bucky asked incredulously as he stood aside to let Clint in.

“Fucking Russians!” Clint said angrily.Nat gave an unamused huff, and Clint hastily amended, “You’re okay, Nat.It’s these assholes that are trying to fuck over our tenement, they’ve been hanging around and intimidating people and I might just have to up and buy the whole goddamn building-”

Natasha cut him off by shoving a glass of vodka into his hand.“Drink,” she ordered, and Clint threw back two fingers without so much as blinking.“Good.We can talk about what to do with the Russians later, but right now, we’re having fun.”

Bucky grinned and walked back into the kitchen to pour himself some more booze.“If you say so, Natalia.”

“So, James,” Natasha said, rounding on him as he reentered the living room, “what’s new in your life?It’s been a few days since either of us have seen you.”

“Just had a lot of orders, is all,” Bucky said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.“A wedding cake, this crazy sweet sixteen thing that’s too expensive for any kid’s birthday party, the usual.”

Clint sipped his vodka and looked directly at Bucky as he said, “Oh, right - orders.We thought you might’ve been avoiding people.”

“Me, avoid people?When have you ever known me to do that?”Bucky glared at Natasha - he should’ve known better than to ask for her help.When he’d called her the night of Bite of Brooklyn - the night that he and Steve… well, _fucked_ , he thought he could get away with playing it off as ‘let’s go get drunk because I lost this competition’ rather than ‘hey can I hang out with you because I just did something incredibly stupid and I need to be around people so I don’t self-destruct.’Apparently, Natasha hadn’t been fooled.He’d thought about Steve almost constantly since then, wondering what he was up to, if he was doing okay, if he was thinking about Bucky too.But even though Bucky _thought_ about him all the time, he’d gone to great lengths to ensure that he and Steve would never share breathing room; he’d asked America to bring him coffee in the mornings on her way into work, rather than go to Clint’s and risk running into him there; he’d started to utilize Bruce’s delivery service in earnest just in case Steve also happened to be stopping by the co-op to pick up flour or strawberries.For someone who was trying not to care about Steve Rogers, Bucky found himself caring quite a bit. 

Seeming to realize they wouldn’t get anything more out of him, Clint and Natasha started talking about some new person she was seeing. 

“He’s a really good guy,” Natasha said, looking down at her drink.“Funny, sweet, a total asshole.”

“Sounds perfect,” Clint said, smiling.Bucky was happy they’d finally found this balance; their relationship had been complicated during their time in SpecOps.There hadn’t been anything between them for a while, but Bucky was still glad to have avoided the ex-fuck buddy pitfall that could accompany less mature fall-outs. 

“Yeah, he’s pretty great,” Nat agreed. 

“What’s his name?” Bucky asked, trying to prove that he was, in fact, interested in their lives and not constantly living in his own head. 

Natasha stilled, a reaction Bucky hadn’t been expecting.Softly, she said, “It’s Sam, Bucky.Sam Wilson.” 

And just like that, Bucky was back to being angry at Steve.“You’re seeing Sam Wilson?As in, Steve’s business partner Sam Wilson?”

“Yes,” Nat sighed as Clint leaned back in his chair, settling in like he was getting ready to watch a show. 

“I can’t believe you’re - you’re - fraternizing with the enemy!” Bucky exclaimed, and he knew it was hypocritical to the worst extent, but they didn’t know that, right?

Natasha rolled her eyes.“They aren’t _enemies_ , and you know that.Sam’s been going through a rough patch lately, with the move, and Steve being in the hospital-”

Bucky froze.“Steve was in the hospital?”

“Yeah,” Nat said, glancing up at Bucky like she was trying to gauge the meaning behind his reaction.“Last week, same night you called and interrupted my date with Sam.He went home and found Steve on the kitchen floor, passed out.”

Bucky couldn’t think.He was hurt?Was Steve still in the hospital?What had happened?Had Bucky done something wrong?Oh my god, did Steve have heart problems? 

“Buck?” Clint prompted.“You okay?”

Bucky shook his head to clear it.“Yeah, I’m fine.Did Sam tell you why he had to be hospitalized?”

“Dehydration, exhaustion, breathing problems due to asthma.Nothing serious, he’d just been working too hard.” 

“Oh, okay,” Bucky said, nodding as relief flooded through his body.Steve was fine.It wasn’t anything serious at all. 

“What’s with you?Are you two friends now?” Natasha asked, fixing him with a gaze so intense Bucky felt like he was sitting under a microscope. 

“No, we aren’t friends.We just had a talk after Bite of Brooklyn that, ah, cleared some things up,” Bucky said, then finished his drink.The few shots of vodka were already settling in his veins, making him feel a bit too warm in his already stifling apartment.“Are we heading out soon?”

“Sure,” Natasha said, finishing the rest of her vodka, which she drank ice cold and straight up.“Clint, finish up.” 

Clint scowled.“I hate it when you make me chug booze,” he complained, but finished his drink anyways.“Okay, let’s do it.”

#

The Red Room was already pretty crowded by the time they got there.Natasha nudged Bucky in the side and said, “See?Thirsty Thursday, Barnes.Of course there’s people out.”

“All right, fine,” Bucky said, abandoning them for the bar.The girl working it didn’t look a day over 22, and Bucky frowned as he watched another guy further down the bar write his phone number on the back of his receipt before handing it over to the girl with a lecherous leer.At least she was working, so there was no chance of her being drugged. 

Bucky ordered a gin and tonic and managed to find Clint, hanging back at the edge of the dance floor looking distinctly uncomfortable with the whole thing. 

“Hey!You okay?” Bucky asked over the rumble of bass and the shout of music.Clint glanced over at him, gestured towards his ears, and then shook his head.Bucky immediately recognized that Clint had taken out his hearing aids, which made sense - he still had partial hearing in one of his ears, but loud noises could be hellish on his aids. 

 _Do you want to leave?_ Bucky signed, taking care that Clint could see it even in the half-light of the club. 

Clint shook his head. _I’m fine now.It was just too much for a minute there.Go dance._

Bucky frowned. _I don’t want to leave you here alone._

Clint rolled his eyes and gave Bucky’s metal arm a shove. _Get out there, I’m a grown man and I can handle myself._

_Come find me if you need anything, okay?_

_Sure, bro._

Bucky wandered off, now feeling pretty drunk as he finished the gin and tonic and went to order another.The first bartender was gone, and Bucky briefly hoped that she was okay before he saw the _same man_ drop something into a girl’s drink.She hadn’t even left it unattended, exactly; her body was just tilted away from the guy as she spoke to her friend. 

Before he knew exactly what he was doing, Bucky was tearing through the small crowd around the bar to get to the guy.By the time he got there, though, he realized that someone else had beat him to it. 

Steven Fucking Rogers, 5’4’’ and quaking with rage, was standing in front of the absolute beefcake that was the creep and _yelling_. 

“What the fuck?You do that often, sneak things into people’s drinks just so that you can _get some_?” Steve said, stepping right up into the man’s space, which would have been funny if the man hadn’t looked able to squash Steve with just one punch. 

“I don’t know what the _fuck_ you’re talking about, but you’d better fuck off,” the man said.The bartender was hovering, looking like he wanted to intervene.Bucky apologized to the girl as he pushed her drink across the counter at the bartender. 

“Make her another on me, okay?” he said before turning back to the scene Steve was rapidly creating.Security had started to make their way over from where they were positioned on the walls, and Bucky wanted to diffuse this, fast.“Guys, what’s goin’ on over here?” he asked amicably, trying unsubtly to insert himself between Steve and the man. 

“Bucky,” Steve said blankly, looking just as surprised to see him as Bucky was to see Steve. 

“Hey,” Bucky said softly.“Step back.” 

Steve didn’t move.“Buck, he tried to drug her-”

“Fucking faggots,” the guy said from behind Bucky before he turned back to the bar and - what the _fuck_ \- tried to order another drink. 

“What did you just call me?” Bucky said, the metal plates on his arm moving reflexively, preparing for a fight. 

“I wasn’t trying to drug nobody,” the guy said, looking down at Bucky’s arm and showing some semblance of fear for the first time. 

“What did you call us?” Steve said slowly, drawing himself up to his full height - which, admittedly, wasn’t much, but Bucky could immediately tell Steve had been in fights before. 

“Faggots,” the guy repeated, and that’s when shit broke loose. 

Steve was on the guy before Bucky could even move, fists wailing on the guy’s face.Bucky noticed that the stranger had henchmen - of course he did, fucking _goons_ in a nightclub - and left the creep for Steve while Bucky engaged his friends. 

He’d forgotten how it felt to fight.The smooth twist of his body, the way his metal arm slammed through the wood of the barstools as one of the guys tried to knock him down and he threw it out for balance.The give and take of a fight - a fist across his lip, given back across an eyebrow.Before security could reach them, Bucky had taken down both men and had pulled Steve out from under the creep, his lip bloody, nose probably broken, with one eye rapidly swelling shut. 

“No, let me go!” Steve shouted as Bucky tried to drag him away from the fight.

“Do you wanna get caught by security?” Bucky hissed.

“Fine!” Steve said, and he grabbed Bucky’s arm, tugging him over to a small alcove tucked into the wall opposite the DJ. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked as he looked over Steve’s injuries. 

Steve shrugged him off.“I’ve had worse.” 

Somehow, after seeing the way Steve had reacted back there, Bucky didn’t doubt it.“C’mon then.Let’s go find our friends.” 

Later, after Sam and Steve had left and the rest of them had collapsed into an Uber, Natasha turned to Bucky and asked, “So I saw Rogers’ face.What happened back there, did you two get in a fight?”

Bucky smiled.“Nah.But he sure knows how to pick one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just want them to be friendssssss <33333
> 
> if you liked it, let me know! it not, too bad, and i dont wanna hear about it :)
> 
> also retail is soul sucking and awful and i hate my job and my shifts someone pls save me from these terrible 2-8 shifts EVERY DAY like WHY i am going to KILL A MAN


	9. the morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMAO THIS IS SO SHORT BUT ITS BEEN LIKE A MONTH AND A HALF IM SO SORRY IM WRITING MORE I JUST WANTED TO UPDATE AT LEAST SOMETHING FOR YALL SO YOU DONT GIVE UP ON ME OK IM TRASH I KNOW I KNOW I K NO

“What were you _thinking_?” Sam griped as he threw a bag of frozen peas at Steve, who caught them and, grimacing, slapped the bag to his eye. 

“This conversation doesn’t feel familiar at all,” Steve said sardonically, leaning back on their couch and closing his eyes.“Sam.I’m not gonna get killed in some bar fight.And I’m not gonna just leave something like that to someone else.”

“Look, man,” Sam said, sitting down next to Steve with a sigh.“I know.Believe me, I know.But it’s not always your fight.”

Steve shook his head, the peas sliding slightly to one side.“If not mine, whose?”

“You know what I meant,” Sam huffed, burying his face in his hands.“Just - for _once,_ can’t we go out somewhere without you being dragged out of the place for starting a fight?”

Steve paused - he hadn’t thought about that.“God, Sam, I’m so sorry for ruining your night.I didn’t mean-”

“You didn’t _ruin_ my night,” Sam protested, cutting him off.“It’s all right, Barnes is just as stupid as you, apparently, so Nat would’ve had to go anyways.But we were out there to have fun, and you just need to let yourself relax sometimes.I mean, obviously you did the right thing tonight, and I’m not trying to tell you otherwise - the guy probably would’ve gotten away with it if you and Barnes hadn’t done something.But you aren’t gonna be able to catch everything, and you don’t have to.” 

Steve nodded, removing the peas from his face so that he could actually meet Sam’s uncomfortably piercing stare.“I know.And I’m sorry again about your night.”

Sam waved him off.“There’ll be other nights.I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“You’re a good friend, Sam,” Steve said, leaning back against the couch and turning on Netflix.“I’m too worked up to sleep, wanna watch a bad horror movie?”

Sam grinned.“Hell, yeah.” 

#

When Steve stumbled down into the kitchen the following morning to start prepping the day’s cupcakes, Sam was leaning against the counter, deep bags under his eyes and holding a cup of coffee. 

“The hell, Sam?” Steve said, grabbing himself a cup from the coffeemaker at the front of the store.“Did you sleep at all?”

Sam just barely shook his head, an action so small Steve almost didn’t catch it.“Every time I closed my eyes, it was like I could see it.” 

Through the haze of sleep that was still clouding his brain, Steve worked to put the pieces together.“See… wait.Did the movie scare you?”

“You said _bad horror movie_ , Steven!” Sam cried, shifting his torso so that he could glare at Steve as he started to take butter out of the fridge and bring it to room temperature.“You didn’t say we were going to be watching something legitimately _terrifying_!”

Steve scoffed.“It wasn’t _terrifying_ , Sam, you’re overreacting.”

Sam let out an outraged gasp, clutching his chest.“Overreacting?You try getting to sleep when all you hear is ‘ _Baba dook, dook, dook!’_ running through your fucking head!”

Despite himself, Steve started to laugh. 

“I’m a grown man!” Sam continued.“I don’t need this!”

“Okay, well, if it makes you feel any better, I thought it was pretty scary too,” Steve said, which wasn’t technically a lie.He just hadn’t lost sleep over it.

“You suck, Rogers, you know that?” Sam grumbled, pouring himself another cup of coffee and heading into their back office.“Suck!”

Steve just smiled and got to work mixing dry ingredients for his Fourth of July “Freedom” cupcakes.He’d promised Sam that they would look over the order requests later that day, and he wanted to make sure the bakery was in good enough shape for the holiday weekend that he could focus on attending to other things. 

Lost in the rhythm of baking, Steve let his mind wander, and of course - _stupid, Steve!_ \- it settled on Bucky.Was he okay?Had the fight triggered him at all?Should Steve have stuck around to make sure he was all right?

He shook his head, hoping to clear it as he loaded batter into the cupcake tins.This was just like him - develop an idiotic crush on a guy who would never want him, and furthermore, had expressed vehement dislike for him.True, they’d fucked that one time, but it hadn’t been discussed or even _mentioned_ and Steve was becoming more convinced every day that it had just been the product of pent-up anger and aggression.Steve had been so certain Bucky was going to hit him that it was an actual relief when they ended up kissing instead - and hell, Steve was just a man.He had needs, and Bucky was a willing partner, and -

“You’re thinking too loud for me to do any work back there,” came Sam’s voice from behind him.Steve started, realizing that he’d been standing and staring at the cupcake tins that he’d forgotten to put in the oven.“Go get some coffee, man.You’re dead on your feet, it’ll do you good to get out and breathe some fresh air.”

“But the cupcakes-”

“I’ll make sure they don’t burn,” Sam said, nudging Steve aside so that he could put the tins in the oven.“I am good for _some_ things, you know.Hell, you could even let me help out in here every now and again.You know I’m not too bad at piping.”

Steve did know that - Sam had some of the steadiest hands he’d ever seen.“I’m sorry.I guess I’ve kinda been micromanaging, huh?”

Sam just smiled and shrugged.“Hey, it’s to be expected.We picked up, moved shop, and with everything that’s been happening, you got a little dictatorial.But you _can’t_ control everything, as much as you’d like to try.”

And, even though Sam hadn’t once mentioned him, Steve knew he was talking not only about the bakery, but also about Bucky.“All right, you win.I’ll be back soon; do you want anything?”

Sam shook his head.“I’m cool.Hey, also, we’re still on for Monday, right?”

“Monday?” Steve asked passively, grabbing more butter to set out for later use. 

“Yeah, your party?” Sam prompted.

“Fuck, Sam,” Steve said, sighing and leaning on the counter.“Why do we do this every year?And this time, it’s not even like we have a place to throw it, or people to invite.All our friends are gone.”

“You still have some friends up here,” Sam said stubbornly.“And Peggy and Angie said they’d host everyone.They’ve got an actual apartment, with a balcony and everything, you know.And since Peggy refuses to celebrate the Fourth-”

“Of course she does.”

“It works out perfectly.”

“Do I even have a choice here?” Steve asked, resigned. 

“Nope.Now, get.”Steve grabbed his wallet and was halfway out the back door when Sam called out, “Hey, wait a sec - do you think Natasha is more of a ballet or opera person?”

Steve turned to look at Sam, a little bewildered.“I’ve got no idea, we haven’t really hung out at all.Are you thinking of taking her out somewhere?”

“Maybe,” Sam said, trying to sound casual but not succeeding.“Well, if you see Clint at the shop, can you ask him for me?” 

“Sure,” Steve said, then laughed.“You know, Sam, she’d probably be fine just going to see a baseball game.”

Sam scowled.“I don’t care what you say, the Yankees are evil and I stand by that.” 

“You’re just jealous we’re so good, since you’re stuck with the Nationals-”

“Get outta here!”

“All right, all right, I’m gone!” Steve said, closing the door behind him. 

The morning was already hot and humid, and Steve’s shirt was sticking to him by the time he got to Clint’s.He opened the door to Clint and Kate glaring at each other from across the coffee bar, one bag of coffee propped up threateningly in Kate’s hand, like she was about to throw it. 

“Did I interrupt something?” Steve said casually, trying his best to diffuse the tension. 

Kate relaxed almost immediately and set the bag of coffee down on the counter a little too hard.“Nope, nothing at all.Just Clint being an asshole.”Clint opened his mouth like he was about to respond, and Kate swiftly turned to Steve.“What can we get you?”

“Whatever’s good, strong, and low in acidity,” Steve said, pulling out a five and setting it on the counter. 

“You look like hell,” Kate said as she began to grind coffee beans.Clint, seemingly discerning that he was being snubbed, grumbled incoherently as he disappeared into the back. 

Steve leaned on the counter.“Oh thanks,” he said sarcastically.“It was a late night.Made Sam stay up with me to watch _The Babadook_.”

Kate started wetting the filter and glanced up at Steve.“I heard that one was actually pretty good.” 

“It is.”

The front door opened just as Kate was finishing up adding water to the cone filter. 

“Good morning, New York!” Bucky crowed.Steve turned to find one side of Bucky’s face purpled and his lip split on the corner from the previous night’s fight. 

“New York doesn’t care,” Kate said sourly, pouring Steve’s coffee into a to-go cup and setting it on the bar. 

“ _Excuse_ you,” Bucky said, still grinning.The smile disappeared when he finally noticed Steve.

“Rogers,” he said in a strangled tone.“You, uh - you look….”

“Like shit?” Steve finished.“Yeah, so I’ve heard.”

It was hard to tell in the dim light of the store, but Steve thought Bucky might have blushed.“Uh, no, I just… well, yeah, but….”Bucky stopped to gather his thoughts.“Are you okay?That looks kind of bad,” he said quietly, gesturing towards the gash on Steve’s forehead just above his left eyebrow.Sam had put butterfly bandages on it the night before as soon as they’d gotten home.

“Like I said, I’ve had worse,” Steve sighed.“Thanks for the coffee, Kate.Keep the change.”Steve turned to go.“Oh, um, Bucky?” he asked, turning back to the counter.

“Yeah?”

“Is Natasha more of a ballet person or an opera person?”

Bucky stared at him.“Ballet.Or, you know, MMA.Why?”

Despite himself, Steve laughed.“Just Sam, being a dumbass.”

“Right,” Bucky said, shaking his head a little.“Okay.”

And Bucky just looked so damn good, leaning up against the counter in too-tight jeans and a too-warm flannel with his too-perfect hair that, instead of leaving the store as Steve had intended, he had to go and open his stupid mouth. 

“My birthday’s on the Fourth, and Sam always throws some kind of party,” Steve said, immediately wanting to take back the words, reverse time, _anything_. 

Bucky blinked.“Cool,” he said, entirely nonplussed. 

“Well, I was thinking, after you’ve closed up, if you wanted to stop by….” Steve continued, trailing off when he saw that Bucky’s face had gone from confused to perfectly blank. _Fuck_. 

“Stop by _your_ party?” Bucky repeated. 

Steve ran a hand through his hair.“Yeah.” 

Bucky still hadn’t moved.“ _Why_?”

Suddenly feeling very self-conscious, Steve strode toward the door.“Never mind,” he said, opening it.“It was a dumb idea anyways.” 

“Steve, wait!” Bucky called from behind him, and Steve froze in the doorway.“Um,” Bucky said, frowning.“If I’m not too busy.Maybe I’ll stop by.” 

 _Play it cool, Steve, god damn it._ “Okay,” Steve said, letting the door swing closed behind him.“See ya.”

When Steve got back to the bakery, he was still trying to figure out exactly how he had managed to invite Bucky Barnes, his business rival, to their Fourth of July party. 

“Hey, did you see Clint?” Sam said from where he was piping frosting onto some plain vanilla cupcakes. 

“Well, I saw him, but I wasn’t able to ask him about Natasha.Some weird argument between him and Kate.” 

“Bummer,” Sam said, shaking some sprinkles out onto the cupcakes. 

“But Bucky showed up, so I asked him,” Steve continued.“He said ballet or MMA.” 

Sam laughed.“Of course.Hey, the ones in the oven should be about ready to come out.I took out the first couple pans already.” 

“Thanks,” Steve said, pulling on mitts and removing the trays from the oven.“I also told him about the party.” 

Sam paused in his piping.“You what?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, shrugging.“I knew you’d probably want to invite Natasha, so I thought this would be more polite,” he lied easily, keeping his eyes down. 

“Oh, cool,” Sam said, obviously still confused. 

“He probably won’t even show up,” Steve said casually. 

Sam stepped back from the finished cupcakes.They were very well done - Steve suspected Sam may actually be better at piping than he was.“Hey man, if you’re sure.These look okay to you?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, clapping Sam on the shoulder.“Yeah, they look great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok again i know this is a really short chapter but like at least its somethign right??? hopefully this will convince those of you who think i've abandoned this story that i have not, indeed, abandoned it. rather, i suffered an actually terrible august complete with depression and writers block and all manner of crazy shit, so here I am, actually posting something new and like yeah it's shorter and I wanted to include a Bucky POV but I honestly wasn't sure when I'd be able to have it up if that was the case and I need to stop typing now so I'm just gonna
> 
> also i wrote half of this while high, and i'm still high so i'll go back over it later to try and catch any mistakes I may have missed. while high. ok b y e
> 
> (I live in washington state its legal here ok i promise nsa if you're watching me it is LEGAL)


	10. USA #1 5eva day, aka, the birthday of Steven Grant Rogers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what even is my life anymore
> 
> also the rec drug use is marijuana. it honestly feels very strange to have to tag it as such, since you obviously should all know by my annoying notes by now that i live in washington, where such things are spoken of and Legal and my own town has like at least one dispensary per square mile

“Okay, Buck, if you don’t admit you like him at least a little bit, I’m not giving you this coffee.”

Glowering, Bucky turned to Kate.“It’s complicated, okay?”

“So complicated that you had to be a total dick when he invited you to his party?” Kate pressed, setting the to-go cup on the counter and leveling Bucky with a stare that reminded him eerily of Natasha. 

“I wasn’t being a dick!” Bucky protested, grabbing the cup and throwing his credit card down.She rolled her eyes as she rang him up.“Really, it was just… unexpected, is all.”

“Are you really going to go?” Kate asked blandly, staring intently at the iPad screen that served as the register. 

Bucky shrugged.“Probably not.Maybe.I don’t know!Now give me my card back, I got cupcakes to bake.”

Kate stepped back from the counter and held the card above her head.“Not until you promise to go.I think it’d be good for you.And your ego.” 

Bucky wanted to tell her that she was being unfair, but knew he would only sound whiny, so he bit his tongue.“Okay, all right, you win!Now give it back!”

“Clint?” Kate called, and Barton emerged reluctantly from the back, looking bizarrely like he was getting ready to be scolded.“Witness this.Bucky, say it again.” 

Bucky sighed and rolled his eyes.“Okay, I promise I’ll go to Steve’s dumb party.Happy now?”

Kate glanced over at Clint, who shrugged and moved to start cleaning the espresso machine.“I guess.Tell America hi from me.”

“Sure thing, princess,” Bucky said. 

“She’s calling me that behind my back now, too?” Kate called after him as he left the shop. 

“Take it up with your girlfriend!” Bucky called back, and he was still laughing as he turned the corner and virtually ran into Natasha. 

She deftly sidestepped him at the last second, and then picked up pace with him as he headed back towards the bakery.“You might want to check where you’re going next time,” she said quietly, mouth turning up just slightly at one corner. 

“And you might want to let me know you’re coming,” Bucky snapped, sloshing hot coffee on his hand as he half-jogged to catch the traffic light.Natasha kept pace, but looked substantially more graceful doing it.He hated her. 

As he expected, she completely ignored him.“I hear you’re going to Steve’s party on Monday.”

“How do you know about that already?” Bucky asked, looking at her incredulously as he pushed his back door open.He already had three employees getting things together for the weekend rush, and all Bucky had to do was work on a special order for some rich girl’s wedding in Manhattan.Truth be told, it was almost relaxing. 

“Well, James, you do pick up some of these things when you’re a spy for four years,” Natasha said slowly, like she was impressed at how dumb Bucky was being. 

“Sometimes I forget that spies actually… well, you know, _spy_ ,” Bucky said, letting himself into the back office and pulling up schematics for the special order. 

“Astute, James,” Natasha said, but there was an undercurrent of laughter in her voice.“Anyways, I just wanted to be sure Sam was telling the truth.You really are going to come?” 

“I guess I have to now,” Bucky said, shrugging.“People were there to bear witness to my moment of incredible foolishness.I’m basically fucked.” 

Natasha sat down on the edge of his desk.“I think it’d be good for you to go.You know Clint and I love you, Buck, but you have to start actually _doing_ things without one of us having to ask you out first.Take initiative.” 

“I don’t even like the guy,” Bucky complained, pushing the sketches he’d done of the cake to one side of his desk.“And it’s not like he’s my biggest fan either!Why’d he even invite me!”

She smiled, but it wasn’t cruel or sarcastic or cynical - for once, it was just kind.“I think you and Steve are a lot more alike than you think.”She got up to leave, but paused, fishing an envelope out of her purse.“Oh shit, I almost forgot - an owner dropped these off for me, and since you know I’m not _supposed_ to accept bribes, I thought I’d pass them on to you.Besides, you’ll get more out of them than I ever could.” 

Something about the way she spoke made Bucky slightly uncomfortable, but he accepted the outstretched envelope.“What are they?” he asked, a little touched that Nat had thought to give him whatever was inside. 

“Something useful,” Natasha said, and left. 

Bucky opened the envelope and shook it out onto his desk.He recognized the contents immediately - they were Yankees tickets.Not just any Yankees tickets - these were for a box suite, the kind that had food and complimentary booze if you were wealthy enough to ever afford buying one at a season rate.There were only two tickets, and Bucky had the uncomfortable feeling that Natasha wanted him to take someone specific, but he was having difficulty imagining who that might be.The last person he’d dated had been more of a football fan, and it wasn’t like he wanted to see Rumlow again anyways….

Whatever.Bucky put the tickets in his wallet, but not before checking the date on them - they were for game three of the Red Sox series, scheduled for the evening of July 7th.“Short notice, much?” Bucky grumbled as he pushed back from his desk, collecting the cake sketches from where he’d discarded them. 

“Hey, America!” Bucky called as he stumbled into the kitchen, still hyper-focused on the details for this cake - the girl wanted lacy piping on the middle tier, and sugar dogwood flowers at the base of each level.If he got it right, it would look gorgeous.If not -

“Are you gonna ask me to start in on the dogwood flowers?‘Cause if so, already done,” America said, brushing pearl luster dust onto some flowers resting on a drying rack. 

Bucky collapsed on the counter next to her.“Are you even real?Are you from another dimension?” 

“Flattery looks bad on you,” America said, absently brushing her hand across her forehead and transferring some of the luster dust onto her skin. 

“Katie says hi,” Bucky said, retrieving fondant from the fridge and starting to roll it out. 

She smiled briefly before starting to retrieve the cake they’d made the night before.“So you’re going to Steve’s party on Monday?”

Bucky stared at her.“How does everyone always know everything that’s going on in my life?What is it with you people?Don’t you have better things to be doing?”

America grinned.“I didn’t mean to be invasive,” she said, but her tone said otherwise.“No, Princess was invited and I’m her plus-one.I just assumed you’d be going, seeing as Nat’s dating Sam and all.Steve and Sam seem like really nice people,” she added.“You should try cutting him some slack.”

Bucky opened his mouth to respond, found he had virtually nothing to say to that, and closed it again.Fuming, he went back to rolling the fondant for the cake.“I’m trying,” he said grudgingly, after about three minutes of silence.“He makes it hard.” 

“Why, ‘cause he’s cute?” America teased, nudging Bucky in the ribs. 

Bucky jumped away before she could do it again.“Your words, not mine.” 

She smirked.“Well, he’s not exactly my type.Do you wanna go to the gym later?” America asked, taking the rolled fondant and starting to apply it to the cake.“It’s been too long since I got to punch things.Like human faces and stuff.” 

Bucky grinned; this is why he liked having her around.America was a good worker, a great friend, and an excellent sparring companion.He’d once asked her where she’d learned to fight, but she’d just laughed at him before punching him in the jaw.“Yeah, definitely.” 

#

If sparring with America was fun, fighting with Natasha was a full-blown exercise specifically designed to heighten his stress levels and litter his body with bruises. 

He fucking loved it.

“You’re getting soft in your old age,” she teased as Bucky heaved himself off the mat for the fifth time in ten minutes. 

Bucky glared at her.“You’re older than I am.”

“And you’re holding back,” she retorted, brushing a strand of hair off her forehead that had somehow managed to escape her incredibly tight ballerina bun.“You won’t use your left arm at all.” 

“I could kill you with my left arm,” Bucky reminded her, stepping to one side of the mat to grab a drink of water. 

“I know,” Natasha said, taking the opportunity to sweep his legs out from under him.He hit the floor with a final sort of _thud_ , trying not to get angry.This was how they always fought. 

“That was low,” he said, dragging himself back to his feet.“Do you want me to knock you out?”

Nat shrugged.“It’d be more exciting than this, at least.I can give you ballet lessons instead, if fighting’s too rough for you.” 

Bucky gritted his teeth, trying incredibly hard not to react.That’s all she wanted from him, and he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.“Quit it, Natalia,” he warned. 

“Oh, that’s right, I forgot - you’ll only fight douchebags in bars.Should I find Steve so that you can defend his honor?”

He took a deep breath.“I wasn’t defending Steve’s honor, and you know it.”

“You know, Barnes,” she said, and suddenly her voice was right next to his ear, “I never thought you’d become this.Just a baker, too soft to fight anymore, more willing to beat eggs than a rapist.What would your sister think?”

Before he knew what was happening, his left arm was flying towards her face.She dodged, and they began to fight. 

This was not the well-choreographed fighting that Bucky did with America, or that he often tried to perform for Natasha.This wasn’t even the fighting Bucky learned in Basic.This was SpecOps and Brooklyn streets, a mix of martial arts and back alley brawling and he wasn’t ever taught how to hold back. 

They danced.It was times like these that Bucky remembered Natasha had been trained in ballet; her speed and grace was unparalleled, every move reminiscent, not of a spider, but of a snake - curling, coiling, striking.Her foot swung up and hit his cheek with an impact that felt like he’d been struck by a baseball bat, and Bucky found himself wishing he had his knives - he’d always fought better with something in his hands. 

So he made his arm a weapon.He started to push forward, deftly avoiding Natasha as she tried to bring him down by swinging onto his back and choking him out with her thighs.In one programmed move, Bucky had her on the mat, his metal arm at her throat. 

“Is that what you wanted?” he rasped, pressing his arm down harder against her trachea.She started to choke.Bucky immediately let up, collapsing backwards onto the mat as Natasha sat up and rubbed her throat. 

“Yes,” she said, her voice equally as hoarse. 

Bucky glared at her.“I’m not gonna apologize.” 

Natasha smiled, her two front teeth stained red with blood.“Neither am I.”

#

“Please, Sam, I’m literally begging you.Do you want me to get down on my hands and knees?”

Sam sighed, looking over at Steve as they waited on the subway platform.“You’re doing this.I know you _say_ you like being some sort of work-oriented recluse, but I can’t stand for it, and it’s your birthday.You deserve to have a little fun today.”

Steve looked around despairingly at all the people off to various Fourth of July parties, decked out in red, white, and blue.“Lousy birthday,” he grumbled as the subway pulled into the station. 

“You’d better act happy once we actually get there,” Sam warned. 

Steve rolled his eyes.“Yes, mom.”The platform fell away behind them.“Who’d you invite to this?”

“Just friends,” Sam said, smiling reassuringly at Steve.He’d always had bad social anxiety around large groups of people, but in all the time Steve had known Sam, he’d never been thrown into a position where he’d been uncomfortable.If Sam said that it was going to be fun, Steve would trust him. 

“Did you invite Tony?” Steve asked abruptly, swaying on his feet as the train hurtled around a bend. 

Sam frowned.“No.Should I have invited him?”

“Maybe,” Steve said, shrugging.“He did give us a good deal on the space.”

“He’s also annoying,” Sam pointed out. 

Steve nodded.“Yeah, that’s true.”

Sam nodded discreetly at a guy near the end of the car who had an American flag painted on his face.He was a beefy sort of guy who looked like he belonged in some unofficial, experimental wing of the military; his short blond hair made his head look oddly small on top of his massive frame.“You should go ask that guy where he got his face done.My birthday present to you,” he whispered, struggling to keep his voice under control. 

Steve looked away quickly before the man could see that they were mocking him.“Sure thing, Sam,” he said, keeping his voicelow.“Tell ya what, I’ll even get an outfit to match.”

They were still laughing when they got off the subway in Williamsburg, walking the last three blocks to Peggy and Angie’s apartment.

“I still say Marines,” Sam said, shrugging.“Way too scary to be army.” 

Steve knocked on the door to the apartment.“Well, you’d probably know better than me.” 

Peggy answered the door, dressed in an Union Jack t-shirt and shorts that showed off enough of her legs to leave Steve’s heart rate elevated.“Come on in!” she said, smiling and ushering them inside.There was music playing and Angie was standing on their balcony, focused intently on a new-looking barbecue that had bratwursts sizzling on top of it. 

Clint, Kate, America, and Billy were already there, drinking and sprawled out in the living room.Billy was sitting with the guy from Bite of Brooklyn - Steve thought his name might be Teddy, but he couldn’t remember.Natasha walked out of the kitchen holding a glass with what looked like water inside, but Steve suspected it was really vodka. 

“Hi boys,” she said, kissing Sam on the cheek and smiling at Steve in a way that made him a little uncomfortable, like she knew something important and wasn’t telling him.“Happy birthday, Steve.”

“Yes, how old are you now?” Peggy said as she came back from the kitchen with beer for both Sam and Steve.“Nineteen?” she said, but it didn’t sound mean coming from Peggy.It was clear she was only teasing - and Steve _did_ know he looked young for his age. 

“25, thanks very much,” Steve said, trying the beer and finding it welcomingly cold without too much of a kick.Good - he didn’t need to get drunk tonight. 

“Of course,” Peggy said, grinning and leading them over into the living room.“Hey guys, look who finally decided to show up!”

The rest of the gang shouted their welcomes and well-wishes, and Peggy turned the volume up on the music.“Okay,” she said, throwing back the rest of her beer, “who wants to drink?”

#

Three hours and six beers later, Steve was starting to feel pretty fucked up.Angie had finished making the food and promptly dug a bong out of one of the entertainment unit’s cabinets, and they’d passed it around, even Steve taking a hit despite his asthma.He’d have preferred a vaporizer, but wasn’t about to get choosy. 

Although he was having a good time, Steve couldn’t help but notice that the sun was starting to set and Bucky still hadn’t shown up.It was starting to make him a little angry, and he was just considering the pros and cons of stealing Natasha’s phone with the intention of getting Bucky’s number so that he could drunk text him when someone came bursting through the door. 

His heart jumped into his throat and he whipped around, foolishly hoping to see Bucky standing there with his hair up in a bun and maybe a six-pack in one hand.Instead, he was greeted with the sight of Tony Stark, who was wearing designer jeans and what was likely an expensive v-neck top that had his own face printed on it in red, white, and blue.Steve eyed the shirt with distaste, wondering how any one person could have such a large ego. 

“Steve-o!” he yelled, eyes finally settling on where Steve was sprawled out in front of the couch, his back to Angie’s legs. 

“Oh, god,” Steve groaned, setting his drink down and rubbing one hand across his eyes.“Sam, I thought-”

“Not my fault,” Sam said quietly, leaning back with a grin.“‘Sup, Stark?”

Tony removed his sunglasses (for what, in Steve’s presence at least, may have been the first time ever) and retrieved an envelope from his back pocket.“Nothing much, just dropping off a birthday gift for Steve here.”

He handed Steve the envelope, who took it suspiciously.“What is this?” Steve asked, turning it over and seeing no writing or other identifying marks. 

“Just a little something,” Tony said enigmatically.“Go on, open it.” 

Steve stared up at him suspiciously.“Is it expensive?”

“Everything in life worth having is expensive,” Tony said, waving his hand dismissively.“And I have more money than I know what to do with.Open it.”

Steve carefully slid one finger under the flap and opened the envelope.Out fell -

“A key?” Steve asked, bemused.“Are you asking me to move in with you, Tony?I’m flattered, but I don’t know how Pepper would feel about that,” he joked weakly, already afraid of what the key actually went to. 

“Ha, ha,” Tony said, rolling his eyes.“It’s to your new apartment.I’ve got one for you too, Sam,” he added, throwing Sam a second key. 

Steve felt like there was something stuck in his throat.“Tony, thank you, but we can’t afford another apartment right now - let alone, you know, two apartments.”

Tony shrugged.“I’ve got it covered.Figured my two best tenants deserved a little something, especially after the success your bakery’s been having.I will require cupcakes as a form of rent payment, though.Pepper likes them.”

Steve didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded mutely. 

“I’ll also take an invite to any future parties you’re having,” Tony said, looking around the room with interest and grinning at Peggy and Angie.They were the only ones listening to the conversation besides Steve and Sam - the others had disappeared to the balcony to smoke more after Tony had shown up.“I’m not a big fan of having to find out about these things from secondhand sources.Not that I mind gate-crashing.” 

“Clearly,” Peggy said, but she didn’t sound too upset. 

“Anyways, I guess I’ll head out.I’ll bring by the relevant paperwork tomorrow.See you Sam, Steve-o!” 

Steve watched Tony make his way out of the apartment, almost missing the figure hunched next to the door as he did so. 

“Bucky!” Steve exclaimed, immediately rising to his feet, completely forgetting his anger, forgetting that he was actually upset with Bucky for showing up so late and that he didn’t even like him much to begin with.Bucky took a tentative step forward. 

“Hey.Sorry I’m late,” he said, hiding behind the tendrils of hair that had come loose from his bun.“Got lost.” 

It was a terrible excuse and they both knew it, but Steve waved it off and approached Bucky.“It’s fine,” he said, noticing Sam, Peggy, and Angie head to the kitchen in his peripheral vision.“Thanks for coming.Your friends are outside-”

“Um,” Bucky interrupted nervously, “actually, there was kind of something I wanted to ask you first, you know, before I drink too much and forget?”

Steve blinked.“Sure,” he agreed readily, not sure what Bucky could have to ask him, but pretty positive that even Bucky wouldn’t be a dick to him on his birthday. 

“Um,” Bucky said, twisting his metal hand in the thin fabric of his shirt.“Here, I, uh….”He handed Steve another envelope, not unlike the one Tony had just given him.“Open it.” 

Steve ripped open the envelope and shook out two shiny pieces of cardstock onto his palm.“Yankees tickets?” he said, bringing them closer to his eyes so that he could read the section.“Buck… these are _suite_ tickets.” 

“Yeah, um, I know,” Bucky said, shifting his weight and looking decidedly uncomfortable.“Nat gave them to me - they were a gift from a restaurant owner.She doesn’t love baseball and Clint always likes to root _for_ the Red Sox whenever they’re in town, so….”

“You want _me_ to go with you?” Steve asked, finally putting the very obvious pieces together and coming up with an answer he somehow hadn’t seen coming. 

Bucky looked even more awkward now; he was sweating, and his metal fist looked like it might be about to rip a hole in his shirt.“If you wanted.I know it’s kind of short notice, but….”

“Of course I’d like to come,” Steve said automatically, a little surprised at his own ready acceptance.“Thank you for inviting me, really.That was, um… really nice.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky grumbled, finally kicking off his shoes.“I still think you’re a punk.” 

“Great,” Steve said, handing the tickets back to Bucky for safekeeping.“For the record, you’re still a total jerk.Wanna drink alcohol?”

Bucky finally, _finally_ met his eyes, and his mouth stretched slowly into a grin.“Fuck, yes.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes i wish i could get paid for this sort of shit like  
> im pretty sure that if i actually make money from doing something im about 2000x more likely to do it  
> anyways school started back up recently so yayayay i'm iN GRADUATE SCHOOL GUYZ its busy ok im doin my best 
> 
> like a bee. a worker bee. buzzin along over here tryin to write teh shit and also like have a life or whatever its cool im just poor and alone and busy BUT IM POSTING SO HEY SOMETHINGS GOING RIGHT FOR ME 
> 
> ok im done talking now. tbh though this just makes me want to bake cupcakes again.


	11. the one where bucky regrets trying to outdrink natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i'm in grad school, and basically i have no life, and i feel immensely guilty about just abandoning this piece of shit, so here i am with a new chapter to make up for it. i solemnly swear i have not forgotten about this and so i am posting a (relatively) short chapter before i finally get around to that goddamn baseball game but the point is that i wanted to give you soMETHING to assure you that i am not one of those people that just leaves things unfinished and ive been having a lot of Catholic Guilt over not finishing this story so goddamnit im gonna stop typing now just know that MORE IS COMING I SWEAR

“Hey.”

Bucky twisted away from the voice, extremely unwilling to be dragged back into whatever hellish present resulted from getting sloppy drunk at Steve’s party.He didn’t remember much past the seventh shot of vodka, though he had a faint memory of doing a body shot off _someone_ and recognized the residual taste of bad tequila on the back of his tongue. 

“Hey,” the voice said again, the vowels drawn out this time, and Bucky finally woke up enough to come to terms with the fact that his mouth felt like the fucking desert, and that he was wrapped in a thin blanket on a rather uncomfortable couch.He knew immediately that he wasn’t at Natasha’s; her furniture was much too nice, and it didn’t smell like Clint’s, which always reeked of coffee, so that left….

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, gently shaking his left shoulder.Bucky felt the pressure sensors in his arm go off, and finally rolled over onto his back.The sun was coming in way too bright through the window, and he threw his arm over his eyes.Fucking unbelievable.He’d been in the army, for Christ’s sake.How was Steve in better shape than him the morning after?The kid had been just as drunk as him, as far as Bucky could remember (which, to be honest, wasn’t very far). 

“The hell am I doing here?” Bucky groaned, an insistent pulsing starting up behind his eyelids, creeping steadily up towards his temples. 

He heard Steve sit down on the coffee table next to the couch.“Well, um, things went downhill sorta fast after Sam brought out the tequila.I stopped pretty early, but you got into a drinking contest with Nat, and it got a little out of hand.” 

His stomach churned when Steve said “tequila,” and he thought he might need to throw up.“A little?” Bucky croaked pathetically.“I should’ve fucking known better.Clint should’ve stopped me, he knows I can’t keep up with her.” 

He felt, rather than saw, Steve shrug.“Towards the end it was actually pretty funny.You started speaking solely in Russian, and Natasha was translating, but I don’t think she was doing a very honest job.” 

Bucky moved his arm and squinted at Steve.He was wearing a light blue v-neck and tapered black jeans that were cropped just an inch or so above his ankles.His hair was pulled back into a small bun on the top of his head, and Bucky noticed geometric designs etched into the shaved sides of his head for the first time.Even with those massive, ridiculous glasses on, Bucky still wanted to divest him of that perfectly-designed outfit and lick his way down Steve’s body. 

 _Not the time, Barnes_. 

“Did I say anything really embarrassing?” Bucky asked, figuring that if he bit the bullet now there would be less post-black out humiliation when he inevitably ran across Natasha later. 

Even through his hangover haze, Bucky watched as Steve flushed and fidgeted slightly.“No, ‘course not.Nothing too bad.” 

“Well, I’d feel better, but I don’t fucking trust you, so…” Bucky trailed off, grinning a little bit when he saw Steve’s eyes widen in mock offense. 

“Would you look at that?” Steve griped as he got up and started looking for his shoes.“I give him my couch to sleep on, make sure he gets home all the way from Williamsburg, and he’s still an ungrateful asshole.Folks, here we have a real winner.” 

“I never claimed to be nice,” Bucky pointed out, heaving himself upright.“You should know that better than most people.” 

“Don’t I?” Steve said, smiling despite Bucky’s admittedly shitty attitude.The guy was genuinely too pure for his own good.Steve was a piece of shit, sure.But he was a _good_ piece of shit.Bucky couldn’t argue with that. 

“So how _did_ we get home?” 

Steve pulled on his shoes and turned back to Bucky.“Uber.You paid, and before you ask, no, I’m totally not paying you back.” 

Bucky hadn’t been about to ask - he had more money than he knew what to do with, and judging by the state of Steve and Sam’s shithole apartment, Steve didn’t need to be paying him back for cab fare.“And you say _I’m_ the asshole,” he said anyways, because it was expected of him. 

“I guess we can call it a draw,” Steve said, disappearing for a moment and returning with a cup of coffee and a bottle of advil, which he set down on the end table next to the couch.“We’ve got nothing around here for breakfast, so I’m running out to grab some bagels.I’ll be back in ten minutes, don’t burn the place down while I’m gone or anything.”

Bucky grabbed the coffee cup and sank back into the couch - even that small action had taken considerable concentration.His muscles were shaking and he felt a little weak - Jesus, _how much_ _did he have to drink_?“I don’t think I can even move off this couch,” he said honestly, taking a sip of coffee and recognizing Clint’s work.His stomach couldn’t quite decide if the coffee smelled appealing or not, but he was determined not to throw up on Steve’s couch. 

Steve snorted and tossed Bucky something else - his phone, he realized.“I charged it for you.You’ve been getting texts for an hour or so now.”Before Bucky could thank him (because honestly, who the fuck is considerate enough to charge someone’s phone for them?), Steve had disappeared out the door. 

Sighing, Bucky took another hesitant drink of coffee and unlocked his phone.Natasha had texted him three times and America twice.He opened America’s first; Natasha could wait. 

**Miss America: hey dude are you alive over there?**

**Miss America: ok so I don’t know if you’re passed out still or in the hospital or something but either way I opened this morning and you owe me one unexcused absence from work you asshole <3 text me when you wake up so I know you’re not dead in an alleyway somewhere**

God, she was good.Bucky should give her a pay raise. 

**Bucky: not dead! Steve brought me back to his place.I’ll be in later, sorry about leaving you to open alone**

He sent the message, and was rewarded a minute later with a string of emojis, most of which were balloons and the smiley face with a halo.Grimacing,he pulled up Natasha’s thread. 

**Nat: feeling okay this morning? :)**

**Nat: just so you know, you did do a body shot off Steve :))**

**Nat: seriously buck you think you’d be better at hangovers by now :))) text me when you wake up so I know you’re okay <3 **

Bucky looked down at the thread, trying to control the blush that was creeping over his cheeks at the thought that he’d done a body shot off Steve.And that Steve likely remembered, which is why he looked so embarrassed when Bucky asked him if he’d done anything particularly humiliating the night before. 

**Bucky: no please nat tell me you’re kidding**

**Bucky: TELL ME I DIDN’T DO THAT**

Natasha responded almost instantly.

**Nat: hahahaha if it means anything, I think he enjoyed it**

Bucky stared at his phone in horror. 

**Bucky:WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP ME?!?!**

**Nat: it wasn’t even the drunkest I’ve seen you, plus you really seemed to want to do it, and who am I to prevent you from following your dreams**

Bucky set his phone down on the table before he crushed it with his metal hand.It buzzed one more time. 

**Nat: love you boo <3 <3 <3 **

God, how he hated her. 

#

It was still fairly early, so the bagel shop wasn’t as busy as it could have been.Steve was grateful for this - even though he was functioning at a higher capacity than Bucky, he still felt a little unsteady on his feet and just a touch nauseas.He’d forgotten to ask Bucky what kind of bagel he liked, so he bought an assortment, figuring he could just freeze the extras.While he waited in line, he pulled out his phone and noticed a text from Sam. 

**Sam: hey you doing ok this morning? You weren’t exactly in the best shape last night**

**Steve: yeah I’m doing ok. Better than bucky at least, I dont think he can move from the couch**

**Sam: thank god for peggy, right?**

Steve couldn’t help but agree.He’d still been partially drunk when he wandered down the stairs at five in the morning to get started on opening only to find Peggy taking scones out of the oven.She’d yelled at him to go back to bed, practically shoving him up the stairs when he offered to at least frost the vanilla bean cupcakes. 

**Steve: we should give her a raise, now that we’re not paying an arm and a leg for an apartment**

**Sam: fucking Stark man**

**Steve: at least we aren’t poor anymore**

**Sam: true that. Ill see you later, imma be down in the office around noon working on designs for that wedding on staten island**

**Steve: cool, I’ll be down to help in a bit**

He ordered bagels and schmear and half-ran back to his apartment, wincing at how bright the sun was.Bucky was still sprawled on the couch, his flesh arm thrown over his eyes, an empty cup of coffee on the table next to him. 

“Finally,” he groaned when he heard Steve come in, sitting up.Not for the first time that morning, Steve felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of a very disheveled Bucky.He’d retied his bun and it was delightfully messy, two of the buttons on his shirt undone so that Steve had a perfectly fine view of his clavicle.He tried to swallow but his mouth had gone dry. 

“Didn’t know what kind you wanted, so I got ‘em all,” Steve ground out, tearing his eyes away from the hollow underneath Bucky’s Adam’s apple with some difficulty. 

Bucky shifted uncomfortably.“I would’a been fine with anything.” 

Steve sighed, exasperated.“I’m _trying_ to be polite here.”He set the bag down on the table, and pulled the armchair closer to the couch.Bucky must’ve turned on the news while he was gone, and Steve watched as CNN showed footage of one of Trump’s speeches.Thankfully, the sound was low enough that he couldn’t hear it without his hearing aids.He fucking _hated_ that guy. 

Bucky slathered his bagel in cream cheese and sank back into the couch as he took a bite.“This was a good idea.Thanks, man.” 

“You looked like you needed it,” Steve said honestly.“So, um,” he began tentatively, needing to voice something that had been on his mind all of last night, “did you really mean to invite me to a Yankees game the day after tomorrow?”

Bucky froze mid-chew, then quickly swallowed.“You know, I actually _do_ remember that part of the night.Um, yeah, if you still want to go.” 

It took a lot of self-restraint to keep himself from sighing in relief.Steve had already been pretty crossfaded at that point, and was worried he’d remembered it incorrectly.“Well, it’s the Yankees.It’d be a shame to let such nice seats go to waste, right?” he said casually, throat tight.What kind of crowd had he gotten in with?Tony giving away apartments for birthdays, being invited to watch a Yankees game from a box suite….

“Not just the Yankees,” Bucky pointed out in the same forced casual tone as Steve.“Yankees against the Red Sox.Good game to go to.It would be a _tragedy_ if the seats went unfilled.” 

Steve couldn’t help it - he laughed.“Twist my arm.What time are we leaving?”

Bucky frowned.“It takes what, an hour to get to the stadium from here?We leave at five and we’ll be able to watch them warm up.” 

“Sounds good,” Steve said, grinning.“Thanks again, I know I probably wasn’t your first choice for who to go with, but-”

“You were,” Bucky interrupted.He snapped his mouth shut, as if he’d said something he hadn’t intended.“Um, you were the only person I asked.” 

Steve felt his face grow hot.“Oh,” he said, something uncurling in his stomach that had nothing to do with his hangover.“Well, ah… thanks, then.” 

Bucky finished his bagel and glanced around, still clearly uncomfortable.“I should… probably get going.Thanks for the hospitality,” he said, grimacing as he stood up.He looked slightly more alive than he had an hour ago, but not yet fully well.“I’ll meet you… outside the stop at 4th?Does that work?”

“Sure,” Steve said, though he wasn’t exactly sure where his new apartment was.He’d thought that memory might’ve been the alcohol talking too, and was at once shocked and utterly unsurprised to find a completely new set of keys on his counter that morning.“I’ll see you then.” 

Bucky pulled on his boat shoes and flashed him a small smile.“Sounds good.Bye, Steve.” 

“Bye, Buck,” Steve said quietly as the door closed behind him.He made his way down to the kitchen after cleaning up the living room, and Peggy turned to look at him expectantly from where she was kneading dough on the island counter. 

“So?” she asked when Steve didn’t say anything. 

“He didn’t remember much of anything,” Steve said, running a hand across his face.“He’s gone now.”

“Not even the body shot?” Peggy asked, sounding disappointed.“Damn.”

“You’re a bad person, Pegs,” Steve sighed, washing his hands off in the sink so that he could get to work decorating the sugar cookies Peggy had left cooling on the counter. 

“No worse than you, dear,” she replied sweetly, nudging him in the ribs as she put the pastry dough, now wrapped, in the fridge.“What did he have to talk to you about last night, anyways?”

“He asked me to go to a Yankees game with him,” Steve mumbled, hesitant to tell her because he sensed she would call it-

“A date?He asked you on a date?!” Peggy exclaimed, and Steve only barely refrained from sighing. 

“It’s not a date! Guys go to ball games with each other all the time.” 

“Sure they do,” Peggy said in a tone that meant _no they very well do not, Steven_.“Where are your seats?” 

Steve shifted uncomfortably, transferring the bag of royal icing to his other hand.“Um….” 

Peggy stopped what she was doing and turned to give him her full attention.“Steven Grant, where are the seats?”

“They’re… a box suite….”

Peggy dropped the rubber spatula she was holding.“And yet you tell me it’s not a date.” 

Steve groaned.“I can’t do this right now, Pegs, I’m still a little fucked up from last night.Can’t this wait until Sam gets here, at least?” 

She picked up the spatula and threw it in the sink.“Fine.But we _will_ talk about it.” 

“You got it,” Steve said wearily, refocusing on icing.It wasn’t a date.Guys really _did_ go to ball games together all the time… and, Steve considered, if he was rich enough, he would invite friends to watch the game in his box suite.It _wasn’t_ a big deal. 

So… why did it feel like it was?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also i totes did not edit this because i thought if i procrastinated any more on it, it may never get posted so fuckin deal with it and ill probably go back and fix stuff once ive finished my last final goddamn when will my life return to something resembling normalcy (in a word, never, because grad school is a black hole of awfulness)


	12. BOS @ NYY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok i had a bit of a block with this one but today it just kinda all spilled out so here ya are fuckers :) <333
> 
> also this is much longer than chapters normally are for me soooo

Half his wardrobe was on the floor. 

Verging on desperation, Bucky picked up his phone from where he’d tossed it on his bed - it was 4:30, and he was almost out of time.Taking a deep breath, he dialed Clint. 

“Hey, Bucky,” Kate answered.

“Kate, is Clint there?” 

“Yeah, one sec.Clint!” Kate hollered, not bothering to cover the speaker, and Bucky winced at the volume. 

“What is it?” Bucky heard Clint ask in the background. 

“Bucky’s calling.Probably wondering what on earth you did with his Yankees jersey.” 

It was actually scary how well his friends knew him.Bucky heard Clint curse before he picked up the phone. 

“Bucky, how many times do I have to tell you-”

“You didn’t actually burn it, did you?” Bucky cut him off, past the point where he was willing to deal with Clint’s bullshit. 

Clint laughed.“That’d be like burning a stack of money, come on.” 

Bucky didn’t say anything, mostly because he honestly wouldn’t put it past Clint.The silence seemed to be enough. 

“Of course I didn’t burn it!I think I shoved it in your hallway closet, up on the shelf.In the back corner.” 

Bucky stayed on the phone as he strode out of his bedroom and to the closet by his front door.“Why the fuck would you have put it up there?” 

“Because the Yankees are evil and I had it for too long and it seemed weird to put it back in your actual closet because then I would’ve had to go back in your bedroom-”

“You could’ve just returned it to me, you know, like a normal human being,” Bucky grumbled, finally pulling the jersey out from underneath a small mountain of scarves. 

“It was more fun this way.I wanted to see how long it would take you to find it.” 

Bucky sighed and pulled it on, juggling the phone with his metal hand.“You’re a sick man, Barton.” 

“I’m not the Yankees fan,” Clint protested.“Have fun with your boy toy.” 

“I’m going to kill you the next time I see you.” 

Clint scoffed.“You could never.” 

“If you think I can’t get the drop on you, you’re dumber than I thought,” Bucky said, checking his pockets once more to make sure he had the tickets.“You’ll never see me coming.” 

“I’ve got eyes like a hawk, Barnes.” 

“You’re also deaf,” Bucky pointed out, finally sure he had everything together.It was 4:56 already; he was going to be late if he didn’t leave right away.“I gotta go, Clint.Watch your back.” 

Clint snorted once and hung up.Smiling, Bucky grabbed his keys and locked the door, sprinting down the stairs and out into the bright July evening. 

#

Steve looked over his closet once more, hoping (futilely) that he would find something he hadn’t yet seen in his four go-throughs of his clothes.He’d spent the first eighteen years of his life a Yankees fan living in Brooklyn, and he had nothing to show for it. 

Granted, Sam had always thrown a bitch fit whenever Steve had worn anything resembling Yankees gear in college - when Steve had tried to point out that the Yankees were unequivocally “America’s team,” Sam had shouted statistics on the comparative benefits of salary caps in the NFL until Steve finally desisted. 

In short, he wasn’t sure where his gear had gone over the years, but it wouldn’t surprise him at all if his stuff had “accidentally” ended up in the pile of clothes they donated to charity each December. 

Sighing, Steve pulled on his one, lonely Yankees shirt he’d managed to dig up from the third box of clothes he’d looked through.He was still in the middle of moving all his things to the new apartment, and glanced once more at his sparse closet before conceding defeat. He took a quick look at the mirror and shrugged before heading out of the apartment. 

The place was huge, and clean - all white and silver lines with pale hardwood floors and kitchen appliances that still had their energy saver stickers on them.It wasn’t exactly what Steve had in mind when he pictured moving back to New York - he’d grown up in a rundown brownstone in Red Hook in an apartment that had roughly the equivalent square footage of his new place’s bedroom.

The building was nice, too; it had a gym, a rooftop terrace complete with comfortable-looking chairs and barbecues, and his apartment even had a balcony overlooking a real street and not an alleyway.Sam’s apartment was directly across the hall from his own, which had proved very convenient for moving.Steve wondered passively if Tony had bought the building.Sounded about right.

Checking his watch once more, he locked the door behind him and hurried over to the elevator.He was going to be late to meet Bucky, and after he’d gone through all that trouble with the tickets, Steve didn’t want to seem even slightly ungrateful.His life was considerably more peaceful with the tentative truce he’d brokered with Bucky than it was when they were still on tenterhooks with each other. 

It was bright and hot outside his deceptively air conditioned apartment; humid enough that he felt his hair wilting from its carefully crafted pompadour.Slightly dejected and very conscious of his cheap Yankees tee, he made his way over to the subway station where they’d planned to meet. 

Bucky was leaning on a railing, his hair tied up neatly in a bun, Yankees jersey unbuttoned and exposing the white wife-beater beneath.He was wearing a ridiculous pair of capris that were rolled to a point just a few inches above his ankles.Steve had never been so upset to see someone wearing boat shoes and rolled up pants in his entire life.He waved to get Bucky’s attention, and was slightly emboldened when Bucky smiled slightly and gave him a little wave back. 

“Hey, Bucky,” he said, grinning, holding out his hand for Bucky to shake.

He took it.“Steve,” he said, letting go of his hand almost too quickly and turning around to head down into the subway. 

“Sorry I was late,” Steve said, unsure what he’d done to get such a brusque reception. 

Bucky turned to look at him in surprise.“You were right on time.” 

Steve shrugged.“My mom always said that if you were on time you were already late.I’ve never been able to get it out of my head.” 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Bucky said, laughing, as they made their way through the turnstiles and down to the platform. 

Steve shrugged, a little thrown by the apparent shift in Bucky’s mood.“So they tell me,” he said, halfheartedly trying to play it off. 

Bucky seemed to notice, glancing down at him as their train rolled into the station.“Hey, uh… look, I’m really glad you could make it.Happy birthday, Stevie.” 

It was lucky that the train doors had just opened, because it meant Bucky turned away in time to miss the blush that was rapidly overtaking Steve’s cheeks.Nobody - _nobody_ \- had ever called him ‘Stevie.’It was almost too much, too intimate, and Steve couldn’t rein in his imagination fast enough to prevent his brain from thinking up what Bucky would sound like calling him _Stevie_ as Steve pounded into him -

Steve shut down the thought as soon as he had a handle on it, and found himself pressed uncomfortably close to Bucky on an already packed train.Rush hour on a weeknight, and a Yankees game on top of that?He should’ve seen this coming. 

“So, Jeter?” Steve asked casually, remembering the stylized “2” on the back of Bucky’s jersey. 

Bucky smiled sheepishly.“I kinda grew up with him, you know?Talk about a childhood hero.When I was older, I even got to meet him, after everything happened with….” He stopped abruptly.“Well, it doesn’t matter.I’ve met him.Got his autograph, all that stuff.” 

Sensing he shouldn’t pry too much, Steve merely nodded and said, “Wow, that’s really cool.I always looked up to him growing up too….Then again, I looked up to most of the team.It’s not like I ever had any illusions about being able to play organized sports.”Bucky frowned down at him and Steve realized he had strayed into self-deprecation yet again.“I, ah… was never exactly the first kid picked in gym class,” he finished lamely, fixating on a particularly lewd piece of subway graffiti that involved Vladimir Putin, an AK-47, a horse, and Donald Trump. 

“I’d’a picked you,” Bucky said, so quickly the response seemed almost automatic. 

Steve glanced back up at him to find Bucky looking away now, the expression on his face almost embarrassed, like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

They rode in relative silence, only switching lines once at Broadway and Lafayette to get on the D train.The subway seemed to be packed with people making their way up to Yankee Stadium for the game, and Bucky and Steve tentatively started talking about their prospective playoff chances. 

When Steve protested that the Yankees really _might_ have a chance at the Playoffs that year, Bucky started laughing.“Steve,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face, “the goddamn _Mariners_ are going to come in with a better record than us this year.You saw our spring!It’s gonna be embarrassing.We’re lucky if we don’t come last in the division.” 

“Just gotta be all pessimistic,” Steve grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest while still trying to maintain balance on the moving train.“Next thing I know you’re gonna be telling me that you’re a Jets fan-”

“Oh god, no!” Bucky interjected, offended.“Giants all the way, man.Poor Jets, though, they were a better team than their record last year.” 

Steve gasped in fake shock, clutching at one of the overhead handles to steady himself as he lifted his other hand to his heart as though he were offended by Bucky’s comment.A particularly violent brake job at the next station caused him to lose his already tentative balance, and he slammed into Bucky’s chest.Almost automatically, Bucky’s arm - his _metal arm_ \- wound around Steve’s waist to steady him. 

They were too close, all too sudden, and Steve felt his mouth go dry as his hands flew up to Bucky’s chest.His - god, Steve could feel his abs underneath that wife-beater, and he felt himself respond without thinking, blood flowing south faster than he could tell his brain, _no, damn it, this is a public place and you’re up against a non-sexually available non-friend —_

“You okay?” Bucky said, but it came out strangled and low.Steve jumped back, regaining his hold on the overhead handle, and nodded. 

“Yeah, of course.I’m fine.Sorry, what was that you were saying about the Jets?It almost sounded like sympathy.”

#

Bucky led Steve off the subway, still not really sure how he’d managed to get a semi from little more than two seconds of contact with Steve’s body.He gritted his teeth as they walked up to the stadium, mentally running through the last five years of Yankees pitching statistics. 

“Hey, Bucky?” Steve asked cautiously as he led them away from the main entrance behind home plate and over towards the third-base side of the stadium.“Where are we going?”

Bucky grinned at him.“Private entrance.C’mon, Steve, today we’re VIPs.Live a little.” 

Steve still looked a little uncomfortable when Bucky handed him his ticket, and Bucky tried to imagine for a second what Steve might be thinking.Bucky’d come from money - he and his family, when they’d gone to Yankees games when Bucky was younger, always sat in club seats.Admittedly, he’d never been in a luxury box before, but hey - there was a first time for everything.The point was that he was relatively used to the sort of treatment they’d be receiving - personal waiter for the box and all. 

He didn’t know a lot about Steve, but could gather a fair amount from his apartment above the bakery.If Steve and Sam had felt comfortable sharing that shoebox, then Bucky guessed Steve couldn’t have come from a very well-off family.He was struck by how little he knew of Steve, and resolved to learn more during the game.Baseball was good for that - talking.Giants games were another story altogether. 

As they filed into the private VIP entrance, Bucky glanced at Steve to see his expression - his eyes were wide and he looked like he was trying to memorize the room, like he’d never have a chance to be back in this particular space. 

“So, have you been to a lot of games before?” Bucky asked conversationally as they queued up before the elevators.Bucky would’ve asked Steve if he felt comfortable taking the stairs, but suspected his frail lungs couldn’t handle it. 

Steve glanced up at him, his cheeks flushing, and Bucky wondered if he’d said something wrong.“Uh, I went a lot with my mom as a kid.Just bleacher seats.”Bucky felt something lodge in his throat - yeah, they were definitely from different worlds.He almost felt bad about being so casual about the whole thing, but noticed that Steve was still talking.“When she died, I moved to DC, and I haven’t been to one since.Sam never wanted to go with me when they were playing the Nationals.He _really_ hates the Yankees.” 

Bucky laughed, breaking the tension that had built up around Steve’s mention of his mother’s death.“Clint feels the same way, for some bizarre reason.You’d think, growing up and living in Bed-Stuy, he would feel at least a little allegiance to his city, but he’s an asshole like that,” Bucky said.They filed into the elevator and were silent again until they reached the suite level.When they got off, Bucky said, “My dad was always the big fan in my family.”

Steve smiled softly as they started looking for their suite’s private entrance.“My mom took me _because_ my dad had been such a big fan.” 

Bucky wasn’t sure what to say - he wanted to ask about Steve’s dad, but was almost positive they weren’t close enough for that. 

“He died in the Gulf War,” Steve said, answering Bucky’s unasked question.“I don’t remember him at all.”The way he said it had a sort of forced casualness, the sort of practiced response that came with years of answering the same question.Bucky understood that all too well. 

“Yeah, I - ah, I haven’t been back since…” He took a breath, and continued, “… since the, um, accident.With my dad gone, it just didn’t make sense to go anymore.And then I was overseas, and, well… best you can hope for out there is just to know if they’re in the running for the playoffs or not.”He tried to smile, but it felt a little forced. _Damn it, Bucky, you just had to go and bring the whole mood down_ -

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, and Bucky realized that Steve really _was_ sorry, because he knew how it felt to lose both of his parents.“Wait, is this us?”

Bucky glanced down at the number on the ticket and back up at the matching number next to the door.“Looks like it,” he said, shrugging.“Shall we?”

“Let’s,” Steve said, grinning, and they scanned their tickets to get in to the suite.

The inside was nice, all glass windows and marble countertops with a bar area decked out with hors d’oeuvres.There were about ten other people in the suite, and Bucky recognized a few of them from various business functions he’d helped to cater. 

“James!” came a booming voice from the other end of the suite, and Bucky looked up to find Thor Odinson grinning at him.His family owned a variety of restaurants across the city, and Bucky smiled and shook Thor’s hand, wondering why Natasha hadn’t told him it was the Odinson’s box. 

“Long time, no see, Thor,” Bucky said politely, stepping aside to introduce Steve.“Thor, this is Steve Rogers, owner of the newest bakery Brooklyn has to offer.Steve, this is Thor; he owns a dozen properties or so in Manhattan.” 

“We’ll be jumping the East River soon enough, brother,” Thor rumbled, leaning forward to shake Steve’s hand.“We’re looking at some spots in Red Hook and Park Slope.” 

“Good luck with that,” Steve said with a small smile.“I can’t imagine how fast property gets snatched up out there.” 

Thor nodded.“Only too true.Please, help yourselves to anything you want here - I’m sure Natalia gave you the tickets?”

Bucky nodded.“You know she’s not supposed to accept bribes, Thor,” he pointed out. 

Thor smiled unashamedly.“Ah, but it never hurts to try.If you want drinks, just let the server know, and he will step out for them.You don’t pay today!” he announced grandiosely and strode away to talk to another group of people - suppliers, Bucky supposed. 

Steve stared after him with a bemused look on his face.“He’s, um….”

“Interesting?” Bucky finished, shaking his head a little.“Yeah, he and his family do tend to throw good parties.Norse, you know?Lots of craft mead.Do you want anything to drink?” Bucky asked, flagging down the in-suite server. 

“Just beer,” Steve said, wandering over towards the open-air part of the suite to admire their view of the stadium.Bucky asked for whatever was light and local, and followed Steve down to a couple of seats in the first row that were still (miraculously) available. 

“What do you think?” Bucky asked, glancing over at Steve to see a sort of rapturous expression on his face. 

“It’s amazing.I just wish I’d been able to find something better to wear, I feel like I missed the jersey memo or something,” he said, grimacing slightly. 

And now that Steve had mentioned it, Bucky noticed that nearly all the people in the suite were wearing authentic player jerseys like his - the only person _not_ wearing one was a stunning brunette that was in an official Yankees tanktop and leaning up against the air conditioner.Bucky glanced at his watch - they still had plenty of time before the game started, and he had an idea.Quickly sizing up Steve, he said, “You look fine.Hey, I’m gonna run to the bathroom - don’t let my drink get too warm, all right?”

Steve nodded absently, watching the field as the players started stretching and throwing.“You got it.” 

Bucky dashed out of the suite, ignoring the private bathroom entirely and nearly sprinting down a few flights of stairs to reach the team store.It was packed with people, but Bucky grabbed what he needed and was able to convince someone to give him their spot in line by bribing them with a hundred bucks (which was probably more than the price of their purchase).Clutching the bag, he ran back up the stairs, very grateful for his military training and the fact that he was still in good shape, and was back in the suite before seven minutes had passed.He collapsed into his seat, sweating slightly, startling Steve out of his warm-up induced hypnosis. 

“Wow, what’d you do while you were gone, run a marathon?” Steve teased, glancing at the sheen of sweat on Bucky’s face.He was aware that even more of his hair had escaped his bun, and brushed it out of his eyes before he met Steve’s gaze. 

“Basically,” he responded flippantly, thrusting the bag at Steve.“Here.Can’t have you feeling left out on your birthday, can we?”

Steve looked down at the bag, then back up at Bucky.Seemingly coming to the conclusion that Bucky wasn’t joking, he took the bag cautiously, glancing back up at Bucky with an expression that looked almost accusatory.“Bucky,” he said slowly as he pulled a Jeter jersey out of the bag, “I… I can’t accept this.” 

Bucky knew Steve was going to protest the cost - the jersey _had_ been ridiculously expensive, and Bucky was trying really hard not to examine why exactly he would spend almost three hundred dollars on a Yankees jersey for his business rival.“You can complain later,” Bucky said.“For now, you’re going to put that jersey on, and you’re gonna enjoy the game and drink just a few too many free beers, courtesy of Thor Odinson.” 

Steve opened his mouth like he was still going to argue, so Bucky put on his Winter Soldier Face and curled his metal hand into a fist.“Jersey.On.Now.” 

Steve continued to glower at him, completely unintimidated, which almost hurt Bucky’s feelings - was he losing his touch?Slowly, though, Steve started to undo the buttons on the jersey and reluctantly pulled it on over his shirt. 

“Happy?” Steve grumbled, eyebrows pulled together and his mouth twisted into something approximating a frown. 

“Very,” Bucky said, settling back into his chair and taking a drink of the beer the server had brought.Pilsner - a good choice for a hot day at a baseball game.He turned around to find the server, and gave him a small hand signal that clearly meant _keep these coming_. 

#

Steve touched the hem of the jersey again, still struggling to understand what exact sequence of events had led to this particular point in time.There was no logical explanation for why Bucky apparently felt it necessary, let alone appropriate, to buy Steve a jersey that was so expensive it almost made him upset to just think about it.Steve knew he should feel grateful, but he _hated_ being treated like a charity case.Even though he knew, sensibly, that Bucky didn’t see him that way, it was hard to accept things like box seats and replica jerseys from someone who was so obviously used to _more_.It was the same sort of guilt he felt about accepting the apartment from Tony, but as Sam had rightfully pointed out, it would free up more of their funds to go towards the bakery.

Steve knew that Bucky didn’t see him as a charity case, and he also knew that Bucky had dealt with some tragedy in his life, too.Their conversation walking in to the stadium had shown Steve a totally new side of Bucky that he hadn’t expected to find under the bluster and bravado of the ex-military baker.And it was with some shock that Steve noticed Bucky was really _trying_ \- that giving gifts may be how he attempted to show that he cared. 

 _Money can’t buy happiness,_ his mother had once told him. _But it does make happiness a bit easier to find._

Sarah Rogers knew the value of cash; she’d immigrated from Ireland when she was just a teenager with only twenty dollars and a photograph of her late father in her pocket.She’d met Joseph Rogers, and that had been that - citizenship wasn’t too hard to come by when you were a White woman in love with a White man.She’d been pregnant with Steve by the age of twenty, and had died before she turned thirty-eight. 

Life was too short to worry about things like jerseys and baseball tickets.

When the announcer requested that everyone stand for the national anthem, Steve glanced over to find Bucky’s face screwed up into an expression of distaste.He stood stoically, without laying his hand over his heart, and Steve watched surreptitiously as the plates in his metal arm flexed again and again.Bucky was stressed, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked quietly when they’d sat down again.Bucky took several gulps from his beer and nodded, smiling in a way that was so pained it came out more as a grimace. 

“Just fine,” he said.“Play ball, huh?” 

The first pitch was thrown, and the game was off. 

Bucky continued to order them beer, and the food was fantastic.Steve kept going back for the smoked salmon canapés - they were made with salmon imported all the way from Washington, and Steve hadn’t been aware fish could taste so good. 

He and Bucky chatted about everything, and nothing - special orders they’d recently filled (Bucky had a great story about a party at the Osbornes, where apparently Mr. Osborne had imbibed a bit too much and started up a conversation with his own reflection in their hallway mirror), their employees (Steve told Bucky how Peggy had practically descended from the heavens - rather, the military - to serve them in their time of need), and their friends. 

“So Clint invited me to this Halloween party, right?” Bucky said, sprawled casually in his chair and only halfheartedly watching the game.At this point, Steve wasn’t paying too much attention to it either - the Yankees were down by four, and it was already the bottom of the sixth.They needed to make a move soon, but they had two outs with no bases.This inning wasn’t looking good. 

“And he’s telling me all about it, how there’s gonna be these great girls there and all,” Bucky said, his consonants slipping together just a bit, face scrunched up in a scowl.“So I tell him I’ll go.I go into my closet one night to find my jersey missing,” he scoffed, gesturing down at his jersey, “and find out later, once we meet up at this party, that Clint’s decided to go as a zombie Derek Jeter.God, he was so lucky he didn’t get any of that makeup on the jersey, or I would’a made him pay for it,” he added, glancing back at the field.“Maybe not.He _is_ good with makeup, though - he looked like he could’a been in _The Walking Dead_.So we get to this party that he’s dragged me to, and he’s clearly stolen my jersey, and he literally disappears with the first girl who looks at him twice,” Bucky continued, laughing.“She runs out of the bedroom two minutes later, yelling at him for throwing up on her shoes.” 

“No,” Steve breathed, and he could picture it - Clint was a sloppy drunk, as he’d found out the other night. 

“Yeah,” Bucky said.“Funny thing is, it didn’t ruin their relationship.” 

“It didn’t?” Steve parroted, bewildered.He wasn’t aware Clint was seeing anyone.

“Nah,” Bucky said, then grinned over at Steve.“He called her the next day to apologize, and two days later, she’s somehow working for him.” 

Steve stared.“Kate?!”

Bucky shrugged.“He’s got some sort of weird charm about him.Like a puppy.You can’t stay mad at him for long.” 

“Yeah, I can see that,” Steve agreed.Then again, it was hard for Steve to stay mad at anyone. 

The first notes of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” came on the loudspeaker, and Bucky whirled around, looking for the in-suite server. 

“Two more, thanks,” he said when the man approached, slipping him a bill and smiling in a way that looked almost dangerous.Steve shivered.“Forgot it was almost the bottom of the seventh,” Bucky chuckled, sounding a little embarrassed.“Gotta get that booze in when we still can, right?”

Steve couldn’t agree more.He was feeling warm and pleasantly sated, and smiled at the waiter as he brought back their drinks.“Thanks for the beer, Buck,” he said out of habit, even though he knew Bucky hadn’t paid for it. 

Bucky scoffed.“Wasn’t on me,” he said predictably.“God Bless America” came on the loudspeaker, and Bucky winced before schooling his face into the same carefully blank expression he’d used during the national anthem.Steve wanted to talk to him about it, but knew they weren’t close enough yet.Maybe… maybe someday. 

The rest of the game went off without any significant surprises, besides a Red Sox home run over the right fielder.Even then, there hadn’t been anyone on base, so the hit was more or less wasted.Steve was almost grateful for the game to end because the Yankees had just been playing _that_ poorly. 

“You can’t win everything, right?” Steve said as they filed out of the private suite and joined the throngs of people that were looking to make their way back down the stairs and out into the humid New York night. 

Bucky sighed dramatically.“Only too true, Stevie.But still, I _always_ hold out hope we’ll crush their asses at home.Even when we’ve been playing like shit all year… a man can hope.” 

Steve grinned and clapped Bucky’s shoulder, albeit with some effort - he was a lot taller than Steve.“Maybe the Giants’ll have a good year, right?” Bucky glared down at Steve, and he laughed in response.“Okay, okay, I know.Probably not.”

“Sometimes I wish the Dodgers hadn’t moved away,” Bucky lamented as they joined what seemed like half the stadium on the subway platform.“Imagine being able to root for a baseball team from our very own borough.” 

“Those were the good old days,” Steve said sarcastically.The train pulled up, and they managed to squeeze into the back of the car, out of most folks’ way.“Legal segregation, hate crimes against queer people, anti-Communist hearings…. What I wouldn’t do to go back.” 

Bucky simply stared at him for a full three seconds like he couldn’t decide if Steve was joking or not, and then started laughing.Steve couldn’t help it - he laughed, too.“Fair enough,” Bucky choked out.“Maybe it’s better just to stick with the Yankees.” 

“Probably,” Steve agreed, leaning back against the windows and watching groups of dejected Yankees fans leave the train at their different stops.After what seemed like an age, they were back in Brooklyn and above ground. 

“Well, good night,” Bucky said shortly as soon as they got back to street level, and he turned around to head down fourth. 

“Hey,” Steve said quickly, unsure why he was so desperate to keep Bucky there with him, next to him, just outside a dingy subway station in Park Slope.“Thanks again for inviting me.This was…. Well, this was unbelievable,” he said honestly, gesturing halfheartedly down at the jersey Bucky had bought him and smiling shyly.“I really appreciate it, Buck.Best birthday I’ve had in a long while.” 

Bucky bit his lip, and Steve watched his eyes dart down to the jersey and back up to his face - to his lips?Before he knew what was happening, Bucky had crossed the two paces in between them and was running his hands across the shoulders of the jersey, and down the front on either side of the buttons. 

“Don’t mention it,” Bucky said softly, suddenly _too close_ to Steve - he could feel Bucky’s breath on his hair, feel those hands still lingering on his lower abdomen -

Bucky stepped back, as if he’d realized that his hands had been still for just a bit too long.“It looks good on you, anyways,” he said quickly, dashed behind a group of girls, and was gone. 

Steve stood next to the subway entrance for a solid two minutes, staring at where Bucky had disappeared, feeling distinctly like he was missing something. 

He thought he might just know what it was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you guys tell im from Seattle???? I have this game I like to play: how many references can i make to Seattle in a fic about New York without it seeming totally weird? i think i'm doing all right. anyways, because of my blind loyalty to my own local sports teams (*breathes heavily*//SEAHAWKS) it's actually really hard for me to write anything positive at all about other teams, especially the yankees. i fucking hate the yankees. i'm so sorry if youre reading this and you are an actual yankees fan but I really tried to do my best and learn shit about this team that I hate (entirely irrationally, of course, it's just been bred in to me and I'm sorry). hopefully you couldn't tell i know almost nothing about the stadium. or the team in general. my god i hate the yankees
> 
> in other news, i have only ever been in a luxury box suite once in my entire life, and that was at a seattle sounders game so it was a bit different experience. but let me tell you, folks, that is the fucking life. if not for the fact that i sit in nosebleed seats for every hawks game i can get my hands on and fucking LOVE IT, i would say that a box suite is the best way to view a sports game. i do very much believe that being among the plebs is better. 
> 
> anyways, thanks for reading, leave me kudos or a comment if u like :))) may the force be with you all <3


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